There's an internal battle happening within him the longer he stares at the small human standing in front of him. Part of him is telling him to run, that anything he has to offer won't be enough for the kid, even if she doesn't expect anything from him. It's hypocritical, having just tried to assure her that she didn't bring bad things to people she cared for. Because he felt like he did. And the other part was telling him that running wasn't going to help. He said it himself. It only made him angrier — more alone.

If he had learned anything in Japan, it was that life was fragile, even for the man who could survive it all. That life could still have meaning, despite the proverbial albatross around his neck.

He looks down at her, expression unreadable for a moment as he measures the weight of her simple question. Then something in his face softens. He knows there's too many questions in the air. There's also too many things left unsaid — uncertainties, fears, and warring emotions. After all, she came from him. However that may have happened.

"What now?" He echoes, "Hell if I know. But we don’t gotta have it all figured out tonight. We can start with something small. Like your name for example. Then, I can walk ya back to wherever you're stayin'."