"But you're not going to, are you? You came here, with no weapon, nothing that I can hear, and while I know you're smarter than that, you came in here," he paused, vocalizing the thoughts out loud, even as he knew Edward had done this on purpose.

"Fuck!" and now was the time for Mitchell to turn his back, holding his palms to his forehead, coiled tight with stress and worry. The amount of what Edward called pity for frustration, and worry.

"Edward, what do you need me to do? I know," he stopped, and then started again. "I know you didn't come here without purpose, whether it's to kill me, or if it's to do something else, but my question is what?"