If you accept cookies from our site and you choose "Yes, Continue", you will not be asked again during this session (that is, until you close your browser). If you log in you can store your preference and never be asked again.
Sam puts the gun down on the bed and presses his palms on his thighs to hide the shaking. “I need you to put your gun in my mouth,” he says, voice surprisingly steady, “and not shoot me.”