Brier slides out of the chair and lowers herself to the floor, reaching to scratch the dog’s chest, smiling. Her expression sobers as she looks back at Finch.

”I was in a fight.”　She says. She looks down at the hole in her shirt. "He was better than me. We both knew it. We both knew it was a fight I couldn't win, but I had to. Otherwise he would have..." She trails off, her hand on Bear stilling.

"He stabbed me. In the shoulder. And then, when I tried to keep my feet, in the gut. I fell, then. There was so much blood I was sure I was dying..."

She stands and sits on the chair, not meeting the man's eyes. "Then I woke up here, and the wound was gone."

"I am not sure what kind of common thread there could be, there, but I am not always very smart."