The finality of having Kira leave her dog in his care was a slap in the face of Pete's composure. He sat next to her, because he needed to sit down for a moment, and drew her into another hug, gently kissing her brow and comforting her as much as he could given the circumstances. It also served to hide from her the moisture that was slowly creeping out onto his eyelashes. "Of course I'll take care of the bloody beast, luv."
Her further questions threatened his resolve. He swallowed thickly, still holding her if she'd allow it. "It is when it is, whenever you're ready, luv," he said, and his voice finally faltered. "But you have to be sure, because you don't seem sure. But you must be, because if you're not sure then I don't think I can do it," he confessed, and his throat was suddenly tight. He cleared it, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was necessary. While this all happened, his arms stayed steady and strong on her. The worst part was that he knew he could indeed do the deed regardless, even if it killed another part of him in the process. Maybe the greater mercy would be to take the decision from her in the end, which was what he was trying to avoid. Maybe the greater mercy would be that, and maybe he would be forced to do it yet.