Twenty minutes later and Lucien sat staring at his desk, trying to decide between the left and the right. To the left were a large glass of whisky and his gun. To the right were two tools he’d managed to swipe during his visit to engineering.
The problem was that he didn’t know what the options were. Was it between ending it all and escaping? More likely it was between dying easily now and dying harder later. The whisky and the gun were at least certain. Did he have the strength to take the alternative path, to keep fighting?
No. He didn’t. He reached out a shaky hand and lifted the glass, bringing it close and sniffing the contents. He wanted to drink it. He needed to drink it… yet some part of him was resisting. His position was hopeless. There was no way he could possibly
