Joshua collapses on top of a writhing, elated Six. He lays still for an extended beat as her hands start to caress his bandaged back.
Almost at once he rolls off and we hear her shriek as the air hits her. A cold that only comes from the sudden absence of wet, penetrative flesh on flesh.
He sits up and reaches for his vest. A moment later, he throws her her hastily discarded clothes.
He stands and threads his belt back into his waistband.
6: Wh-where're you going?
Joshua: Come. I have much to do to prepare; and God knows I cannot do it alone.
6: But, I thought...
Joshua: You thought what? That your sodden cunt would save me from myself? That you could change me with the bat of coquettish lashes?
6: I -
Joshua: You forget, Courier, that I am not Follows Chalk. I'd wager I am nearly twice your age. And if you have spent these weeks with me thinking that I would... succumb to some... youthful, literary fancy of love--
He spits the word like it is a bitter salve.
Joshua: Then you have been living under a grave misapprehension. I am not some... Mr Darcy.
A tear falls down 6's cheek, betraying her. He smiles beneath his bandages at the involuntarily confession of her feelings. She lets out a small sob.
Joshua: Ahh, yes. You forget, you are not the only person in the wastes who enjoys to read, child.
He offers her his hand, and she takes it reluctantly.
6: Then why--?
Joshua: "Every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God." We have done good work here, Courier. God asks that we enjoy it. It is his gift to us.
6 sniffs loudly and pulls on her jeans. She feels the hot, slimy mucus leave her and dampen the fabric. She prays to... God, she supposes... that she isn't pregnant.