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Summary
“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, voice sharp in his surprise. He’d expected—well. He hadn’t expected this. The girl in front of him is careful to keep her hands up, only nodding at the pack now on the ground. He’d thrown her pretty hard against the wall when she’d stepped out from the shadowed corner, but nothing he can see looks bleeding or broken, at least.
“I’m here from Leroy. He didn’t want to come. Said you might, like, cut off his fingers or something. So he sent me.”
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Sans Firefly-rescue. Ellie stays in Boston as a smuggler, or something similar.