[ Even considering that question makes him a traitor, Carver knows. He wants to curl into himself even tighter or maybe bash his head into the wall until it breaks and his thoughts finally right themselves. It'd go quiet then, Carver thinks. He could have some peace, even if only for a second.
The dog whines. Then the dog bites his wrist very gently, almost cradling it.
Carver stares. Bear doesn't draw blood. Just whines. And Carver wonders if he shouldn't just dodge and say that he's dead back home, rotting on the killing fields with all the others, so what does it matter? He remembers the knife. He remembers that woman's face as her gun clicked empty and she went for the blade instead. Resolved and brutal. A soldier in her own way.
It wasn't an awful death. It was fast. He died in battle, and there's honor falling to a respectable enemy.
That's not the point, though. It'd almost be a lie if he let that be the answer. And Carver realizes he doesn't want to start lying to Harold Finch. It'd twist something between them if he did. ]
I forgot my place, [ he repeats, shifting to watch Harold. ] He'd test me if he were here. I'd deserve it.
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The dog whines. Then the dog bites his wrist very gently, almost cradling it.
Carver stares. Bear doesn't draw blood. Just whines. And Carver wonders if he shouldn't just dodge and say that he's dead back home, rotting on the killing fields with all the others, so what does it matter? He remembers the knife. He remembers that woman's face as her gun clicked empty and she went for the blade instead. Resolved and brutal. A soldier in her own way.
It wasn't an awful death. It was fast. He died in battle, and there's honor falling to a respectable enemy.
That's not the point, though. It'd almost be a lie if he let that be the answer. And Carver realizes he doesn't want to start lying to Harold Finch. It'd twist something between them if he did. ]
I forgot my place, [ he repeats, shifting to watch Harold. ] He'd test me if he were here. I'd deserve it.