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Booker patted Elizabeth’s shoulder as he passed, and she turned her head as he walked towards one of the faded, bare beds.
“What, where are you–?” She could almost feel Tenenbaum waiting outside of her view, but Elizabeth kept her eyes on Booker and frowned softly. He leaned his shotgun on the bedframe closest to him, removing his holsters and draping those across the back of the frame.
“You can handle this on your own. He’s your artist,” he scoffed and dropped himself onto the bed with a drained exhale. He turned his back as she did, and then it was only her and Tenenbaum.
“An artist? So Cohen found you, and you plan to go to him.” As punctuation, she flicked some ashes from her cigarette into the ashtray on the end table. She raised it again to her lips and smiled… “Perfect.”
Her expression was nothing like the wistful look she gave the Little Sisters. Elizabeth felt an uneasiness creeping in, like her core was covered with pins and needles. She moved a stray piece of hair from her face and cleared her throat, continuing.
“At least you understand,” she answered, glancing at Booker on the bed. “Cohen is unstable, but he knows this city. He can–”
“If he is not already part of this, he soon will be.” In the ensuing silence between them, the girls settled into creaking beds with small, faraway sighs and scarcely audible good night wishes.
“Ryan talks of his ‘Great Chain’,” she spat, nose wrinkling in disgust, “But he forgets there are other networks in Rapture. Cohen, he connects Ryan to those networks… Mark this,” she said, narrowing her gaze to Elizabeth. “With Fontaine free, Ryan will start up where he finished. More than anything, we need–”
“More kids will be in danger,” Jack said, shuffling up with a delicate smile and his baggy sweater. “And Miss Elizabeth is going to protect them… Right?”
What do you want to do, Elizabeth?
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