Clarice heard the yelling and her eyes went huge. Oh God, can't these fucking idiots at least keep the internal betrayals and chaos down while we're trying to save people?

But no. Charlie had given Quentin a concussion and run off.

Clarice hurried over, and the sight of the fiasco almost made her lose it right fucking there. Her eyes brimmed with tears, the last of the color left her face and for a moment she looked ready to put that damned gun to her own temple. But instead, she swallowed and looked around at the others. "I can't stay. I'm still a decent shot and we need that." She glanced at Molly, but the redhead looked determined to see the offensive through.

"What about Charlie?" Jack asked. "Do we go after him?"

Clarice voted against it immediately. "He a-a-attacked one of us and sidetracked the search. He's able-bodied while the people we're rescuing are drugged, helpless and being guarded. I s-say we don't go after him. He can look after his own selfish ass until we get back with t-t-the captives, and t-then he can b-be found a-and punished for assaulting one of us."
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