“I…helped kill someone…” He said shamefully.
“. . . Who?”
“I don’t know, she just said he owed us…”
“For what?” He was walking a fine line between trembling and interrogating tones.
“it was money I think,” shame eminating from his voice
There was a deep exhale before Ash just looked at him sternly.
Oliver was on the verge of tears, “please don’t hate me…”
“. . . I’ll admit . . . my hands aren’t the cleanest either . . . promise me, you’re not the same person you were before.”
“I’m not, though she might…”
“I care more about you, Oliver . . . I trust you and love you. I don’t wanna tell myself to fall, nor do I want an ‘et tu’ moment from you of all people.”
“on the bright side I remember my accounting skills.”
“. . . I hope to gods it isn’t blood money you’re counting,” he says, a bit exasperated.
“I don’t know, they didn’t tell me. Hell, I didn’t know they were criminals until that night.”
“Just keep this in mind: When I killed, it just against something unjust and inhumane. One of these days, you’re gonna explain yourself.”
Oliver nods solemnly, “I’m sorry…”
Ash simply hugged him.
“you’re not mad?”
“No . . . I’m just . . . confused.”
“I’m still very sorry…”
“. . . I mean, I get that. Oliver, I was in a revolt and I’m practically a huntsman now. It’s sad and unfortunate, but killing is nothing new to me. I even understand why the raiders sacked my village, they were nomads who wanted some shade and food.” He gets a lien card from his backpack. “This . . . this is what you killed for? A piece of plastic? Does this piece of plastic really have that much power over you?”