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’ “What do you mean?” He asks, barely more than a whisper.
“You know what I mean,” Roe breathes, “Anythin’ you want. I just need…I got to feel...I’m so…just hit me, huh?”
And Babe - God forgive him - asks “Hit you where, Doc?”
Roe blinks once, real slow, steps away a little and says “Here,” pulling a hand all bunched up in the cuff of his jacket and smacking it hard into his own belly, just to the side of his navel. And then the medic asks, “What d’you want from me for it?”
For it? Like…payment?
And Babe shouldn’t.
Jesus Christ this is so fucked up, he shouldn’t.’