"Well, you know what you have to do, right?"
"What?" She looked pointedly at my keyboard. I could see the tears rolling down her cheeks. "No! You're out of your mind. You think I'm going to run off with some nut off the Internet? Some spy?"
"You got a better idea?"
I kicked a pile of her laundry into the air. "Whatever. Fine. I'll talk to her some more."
"You talk to her," Ange said. "You tell her you and your girlfriend are getting out."
"What?"
"Shut up, dickhead. You think you're in danger? I'm in just as much danger, Marcus. It's called guilt by association. When you go, I go." She had her jaw thrust out at a mutinous angle. "You and I -- we're together now. You have to understand that."
We sat down on the bed together.
"Unless you don't want me," she said, finally, in a small voice.
"You're kidding me, right?"