A Hand basket to Hell

When he turned back to her he couldn't read the look on her face. Determined? Neutral? It was a mask, he didn't have it in him anymore. He was too worried and had too much on his shoulders.

He didn't know if he could trust her, he probably couldn't, shouldn't trust her with the daunting task he was about to set her up for. Give it to her straight, he was done trying to dance around it all.

"Wilder is in the woods. He and another songbird are gathering some samples of the blight. I need..." He looked around the clinic again trying desperately to see if he could think up a way to get those samples without using her.

"Fuck, Vesper, you've been through enough and you already hate me. But I have to be here to find a cure and treat the patients. I need someone to get those samples from them." Viridian eyes with flecks of lavender glance back to her, "I'm sorry... but I have to send you." Why couldn't he be the big strong composed figure of Basilisk? He had to get through this first. He couldn't do it alone.

"Speech"