“I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I have jurisdiction over all the parties to this agreement,” I said politely to the Proponents, “My jurisdiction is limited and there isn’t anything I can do to bring everyone under it.”
           I could tell Vance Milligan didn’t like what I had just said.  He’d been a Proponent for a long time and developed a reputation as a man who could get around “technicalities” like “jurisdiction.”  If you couldn’t get a Proponent to do what you wanted, if a Proponent thought there was no way to do what you wanted, you went to Vance.  He had the knack, all right.  He could draft up something that seemed fool-proof to just about any Peacemaker.  While what he drafted was often technically incorrect, it had the substantive elements close enough to allow just about any Peacemaker to move forward without having to worry about a reversal later on.
           And that’s why Vance hated having a matter of his come before me.  I don’t settle for “close enough,” it’s either right or it isn’t.  And if it isn’t right, I don’t go forward.  Which is probably why I’m still a Peacemaker and not an Intermediary or one of the Council of Nine.  I had a chance to be on the Intermediary Board a while back, but I turned it down.  The Intermediaries just want to get things done, but I’ve always been more concerned about getting things right.  It’s a character flaw, but it’s one I’m satisfied with.
           Vance mulled my words over for a minute, pretending to be deep in thought, and then said, “Look, Your Honor, with all due respect, I know that you are concerned about the jurisdictional element, who wouldn’t be?  That’s the basis of what every Peacemaker does, but . . .”
           “Vance,” I interjected, “I took the same classes and got the same license you did.  I know the Code, and I know I don’t have jurisdiction here.  An Opponent would . . .”
            “If he even has an Opponent,” muttered Bartholomew H. Pike.
            Pike, what a winner.  Not that bright, but a family history with so much reach that he was invincible, birds were afraid to mess on him.
           “I don’t care if he has an Opponent, Pike, I care about doing what’s right, about doing my job according to the oath I took.  And, might I add, you should, too.  Off the record, this deal stinks.  Pike, you shouldn’t let your Seekers sell out their own people just so they don’t have to deal with Milligan’s.”
           I regretted losing my tongue like that, but Pike always managed to get under my skin and I always managed to let it show.  Not that he cared much.  If Pike hadn’t grown up wealthy, with everything provided for him, he would regularly take offense at my criticisms.  But since he didn’t have to establish his name, since he didn’t have to build a reputation for himself, he didn’t care.
            “Look, if you’re going to be a stickler on all this, it will just force us to take the issue to the Intermediaries,” Vance added almost thoughtlessly.
            I don’t like idle threats, and I don’t care about being countermanded by an Intermediary Board.  I do what the Code tells me to unless the Council of Nine say otherwise.  That’s another reason I’m still a Peacemaker, I take my job seriously. 
           “Well, Vance, if that’s your attitude, you can go right ahead.  Since this is a de novo issue as opposed to a discretionary issue, the odds are on your side.  But I know you, Vance, and you don’t play the Intermediary card unless you know you’re beat.  So let’s just see the Disposition when the Intermediary Board is done with it.”
           I let that sink in for a moment.  Pike, of course, couldn’t care less.  He just stared down at his tie that wasn’t tied all the way and maybe noted the several stains on it.  Vance, on the other hand, was angry, not that it showed.  But I know Vance and I know when he’s angry.  Anytime he loses, he’s angry, which is why he’s such a good Proponent.  But Vance never lets his anger show, he stays quiet, he thinks, he mulls, it’s actually kind of intimidating.  It shouldn’t be given that he doesn’t waste words, so him not talking is fairly normal, but he’s got this special way of making it pretty terrifying. 
           “Well, if that’s all the business we have for today,” I said in a way that didn’t hide the ‘Get the hell out’ attitude, “then I guess I’ll see you next time.  Gentlemen.”
           I stood up from behind my desk, shook hands with them, and wished their wives my best, hoping that I got the name of Pike’s current wife correct.  I don’t know if I did, given that he probably wouldn’t bother to correct me if I had gotten it wrong.
            While sitting back down at my desk, I focused my thoughts on the rest of the business on my docket.  The most pressing matter was a judgment against Kevin Steiner.  Poor, poor Steiner. Steiner was accused of trying to steal inventory from his employer.  The employer went to the courtesy of telling Steiner that it wanted Peace(1) and he didn’t go to the trouble of getting an Opponent.  The employer got the Peace it wanted, which left me the trouble of enforcing a Default.  I hate Defaults, I absolutely hate them, but I’m bound by the Code when someone doesn’t bother to protect himself.(2)
            The reason I don’t like Defaults is that an innocent person, more or less, ends up on the wrong side of a Peacemaker like me.  A Default is the result of very careful planning on the part of those who seek Peace.   The Seekers are unable to seek Peace against the right person because that person is usually too well-protected by family or some other connections – which is forbidden by the Code(3) – or, more likely, the person has dirt on the Seeker.  This causes both sides to look for a patsy.  That patsy is usually some guy desperate for money or to get out of some hole he’s in, so he takes the money or makes the deal and then takes the punishment.  The Code actually forbids this, but that doesn’t stop it from happening.  I got the feeling that what I just described was more less how Steiner ended up in with a Default, which made me very reluctant to make Peace.  The punishment for a Default is very, VERY harsh, (4) and I’m very unwilling to carry one out.  But despite my reservations, I don’t have a choice, my job is to make Peace.  And that’s what I do, my job.
            But death, damnitt!  That’s irreversible, irrevocable, and can’t be undone!  Why the hell didn’t I take that promotion to the Intermediary Board when I had the chance?  I told my clerk and my secretary I was leaving for the day to deal with the Steiner Default and that I’d be gone for about a week.  They didn’t even look up at me when I left, said they would handle things.  Probably didn’t even think about it.  I can’t take much more of these . . .
           I made my way to the train station.  It was going to be a two day trip out to Steiner’s, and I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.  Steiner’s last known address was in Georges County, over in the Badlands near my District.  The District wasn’t, despite the official propaganda, much for safety, and the Badlands, well, you get the idea.  The Badlands aren’t much of a place for a Peacemaker, and certainly not a Peacemaker like myself.  Opponents are easy to find out there given most folks in the Badlands are desperate and willing to pay whatever they have.  This, of course, means that the Opponents aren’t registered, so you can’t count on them to follow the Code.  If that’s not bad enough, it’s also pretty easy to tell when a Peacemaker comes into town, and most of the Opponents-for-hire are desperate to take a shot at a Peacemaker.  But I didn’t take the job because it was indoors and didn’t require heavy-lifting.
             I settled into my seat on the train and tried to sleep.  A two-day trip, lots of time to think.  Think about my job, my role in life as a Peacemaker.  Think about how enforcing this Default wasn’t really me doing it, it was the Code doing it.  I just carry out the Code.  A lot to think about during my trip to the Badlands.

           About a half-mile before the whistle stop nearest where I expected to find Steiner, I ducked out the back and jumped off the train.  There would be too many Opponents-for-hire waiting for people to rob at the stop, and I didn’t want to have to announce my presence if at all possible.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only person who realized the whistle stop wasn’t the best place to get off the train. 
           Just after I got my balance and stood up, I noticed three salt-of-the-earth types start to move towards me.  They didn’t speak, but I knew what they were after.
           “Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said, “I’m sorry to have trespassed.  I’ll be moving on now.”
           I turned to follow the tracks to the whistle stop, but one of them took a shot at me.  The bullet hit the ground at my feet.  I stopped moving and turned around.
           “Again, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass, but . . .”
           “You two take what you want, but the boots are mine,” the one who fired at me said.
           “Sorry, but the boots and everything else stays with me,” I said calmly, “you can have my money, no strings attached.  I’m going to reach into my pocket and . . .”
           The one who shot at me earlier took the opportunity to fire at me again, but I fell to the ground just before he took his shot and I didn’t get hit.  All three of them rushed me.  I didn’t particularly want to kill them, but it didn’t look like I had much of a choice.  I pulled out my pistol and took out the one with the gun first.  The one to my right went for something on his belt and found a hole pumping scarlet from his stomach.  He collapsed.  The one on the left stopped and turned to run, but I shot him dead.  I walked over the one on the right who was still alive.
           “I didn’t want to kill you, but you’re dead either way now.  We can’t get a doctor to you before you lose most of your blood.  And even if we could, there wouldn’t be much he could do.  It’s only a question of time and pain now, do you want to die fast and painlessly, or slow and hurtful?”
           He tried to spit at me, but he couldn’t work it up
           “Shhh, shhh.  It hurts, I know, it hurts bad.  It’s like the sun’s shining nothing but hurt on you, it’s all you can feel.  I can end it, I can take it away.  I can take all this pain away.”
            He nodded to me.
            “Tell me where Kevin Steiner is, tell me how to find Kevin Steiner.”
            Through several gasping breaths, he managed to tell me that Steiner had a home on the outskirts of town.  It was probably more of a shack, but I wouldn’t expect a guy like this to know the difference.
            “Are you lying to me?”
            He shook his head “no.”
            “You probably are, but you get the benefit of the doubt,” I said while shooting him in the head.
            I reached down and searched the man, taking his gun.  I did the same to the one who shot at me, and then I went over the one who tried to run for it.  I turned him over and got a look at his face.  A kid, a damned kid.  Couldn’t be more than seventeen years old and gets killed trying to rob someone.  Correction, gets killed by me trying to rob someone.  Not that I had to worry about legal problems, each kill was justified by the Code,(5) but still, he was seventeen.   

            I walked towards town, keeping to the edge, trying not to be detected.  About three miles past town, I came across a small shack.  I moved towards it carefully and got about (150) feet from it when the shots started coming.  I dropped to the ground and pulled out my gun, trying to take cover.  An Opponent, or someone that I hoped was an Opponent, came out from behind the shack and kept up the shots.  Of course, it probably wasn’t an Opponent given that Opponents are forbidden to represent people who Default.(6)  After carefully reviewing all my options, I pursued the most logical course and tried speaking to him.
           “You know,” I began once the firing stopped, “Steiner didn’t have an Opponent during the Action, and he didn’t represent himself, either.  He Defaulted, you shouldn’t be here.”
            “I think you’re a fucking liar,” he yelled back in between shots, “Why in the hell should I believe you?”
            “Well, first, I’m a Peacemaker,” I managed to get out before several shots flew in the general direction of my head.
            “And my name is Bill Sheppard!  I’m Peacemaker Bill Sheppard!  I’m here to carry out a duly-authorized and legal Default on Kevin Steiner,” I paused for a moment and then added, “Why not Truce and talk this out?”
            I stood up slowly.  The Opponent lowered his weapon and tried to open his mouth.  His face scrunched together as if in deep thought, pondering what to do.  Then he spun around and walked inside the front door.  I heard a calamity coming from inside the shack and then a man started screaming; I rushed towards the shack.  The man I presumed to be Kevin Steiner came tumbling out the front door and landed face first in the dirt.  He tried to get up but collapsed in fear instead.
           “I know your reputation, Peacemaker Sheppard,” The Opponent said as he walked through the front door, “If you say this . . . man . . . Defaulted, then he did.  I’ll step out of your way now, forgive my interference.”
           He walked back inside the shack.  I heard the backdoor open, close, and then I heard a man ride off on a horse.  Steiner was still on the ground crying out for help and desperately trying to breathe through the terror.  His eyes were bloodshot red and snot ran down his face from his nose.  He tried to hold himself together, but with his body shaking, too much needed fixing for him to get control of himself.  I didn’t want to look at him, but I didn’t know what else to do.  It’s my job, it’s what I do, I don’t get emotional.  All I could hear was a low cry from Steiner, the cry of a man desperate for help that he knew wasn’t coming.  My job, I said to myself, my job 
           I pulled myself together and continued walking towards Steiner.  I could hear him trying to put the words together to beg for his life, but they just weren’t coming.  I walked up beside him and looked down at his face.  He slowly pulled himself up to face me, almost falling twice in the process.  He used his sleeve to clean his face and managed to stop crying.  I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket and threw it to him.  He took it, picked it up, used it, and tried to hand it back.
            “Keep it.”
            Confused, he folded it and put it in his pants pocket.  He looked up at my eyes and tried to say something.  His mouth moved, but he couldn’t get words out. 
            My job, my job.
            “It’s all right,” I said, “Just go ahead and say it.”
            “I got . . .” He faltered.  I knew where he was going with this.  Someone paid him off and then he realized his mistake too late.
            “Who?”
            “What?”
            “Who set you up?  Who did you make the deal with?”
            “It . . . I’ll die with some Honor left.”
            “But you took a payment to take the punishment for something you didn’t do.  You Defaulted, you don’t have any Honor left.”
            “But I’ll get some back if I own up to what I done?”
            I paused, wondering whether the confession would actually be worth anything, “Yes.”  Doesn’t hurt to take a chance every now and again.
           “No, I Defaulted.  I got to admit it.  You’ll tell my family, in the report, you’ll tell ‘em I went out like a man?”
            I answered with a nod.  No one spoke for a long, long moment.  Steiner looked to the ground, tried to stop the few tears that were still bleeding from his eyes.
            “I’m ready,” Steiner managed.
            I reached into my pocket and he tried not to cringe.  He failed.
            “It’s all right, this is a choice,” I said while pulling a vial out of my pocket, “You can take this, accept your DisHonor and rectify it by acting with Honor.  Or, I can make Peace the typical way.  Which one is it?”
            He pointed to the vial.  I tossed it to him, he caught it, and slowly got up.  Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned and started towards the house. 
            “Drink it now,” I said.  It came out a little more forceful than I intended.  I’m normally much calmer in these situations.
            “I’d, I’d like to do it in my home, in my bed.”
            “You’ll have plenty a-time to get there, it’s not fast-acting.  Do it now,” I was still less than calm, but I tried to get myself under control.
            “I’ll, uh, I’ll drink it when I get . . .”
            “NOW.”
           We stared at each other for what probably seemed like an eternity to him, but did nothing but bore me.  I wanted to get out of there, right now.  Just a moment before it was too late, I saw it in his eyes.  He tried to run, but I shot him before he managed to fully turn his body.  He slumped down in front of the door and I moved towards him to see if he was still alive.  Damnitt, it didn’t have to go down that way.   
            I leaned down over him and found myself fighting back tears.  “I didn’t want to do it this way,” I said very quietly, “But I’ve been burned on that enough.  I just won’t let myself get burned again.”
            “Vance,” he muttered, “Vance Milligan.”
            “What?”
            “Vance Milligan, he paid . . . he paid . . . me,” he managed to get out between gasps.
            I didn’t say anything.  I just stared at him.
            “Blood . . . Money.  In my . . . house,” the words escaped from his throat like heat from a dying ember. 
           After a moment of confused pain, the life escaped from his body, too.  Kevin Steiner, after thirty-years of life, was dead.  In a second, less than a second, he was gone.  The energy that coursed through him, the energy that allowed him to think, feel, breathe, and live disappeared so fast you couldn’t even see it go.  It was like he never was, and he certainly would never be again.
            Damn.
            And Vance Milligan may have paid him off.
            Damn.
            And, probably, the only witness other than Vance was gone.
            Damn.
            And now I had to look into Vance.
            Damn.
            And Steiner paid me Blood Money.(7)
            Damn.
            And I killed another human being.
            Damn.

            By the time I got to the whistle stop, all I could think about was how much I wished I hadn’t stopped drinking. I gave it up when I became a Peacemaker because I knew too many fellow Peacemakers who relied on it to carry out their duties.  They didn’t think they were alcoholics, but they weren’t fooling anyone.  That’s why most Peacemakers relied on I.S.O.-L(8), or “Iso8”.  Iso8 suppresses the emotional responses generated by a Peacemaker’s work.  It’s used as a way of reinforcing the idea that the Peacemakers are not personally killing someone or personally responsible for carrying out their work, they are just doing their job. 
           I couldn’t disagree with that pile-of-shit-for-logic more.  It isn’t a robot that makes Peace, or some sort of damned half-human contraption, it’s me, I’m the one who makes Peace.  And I’m not just some emotionless entity, I’m a human being who CHOOSES to do something.  I WILLINGLY do it, it isn’t just my job, it’s what I DECIDE to do.  And regardless of what the Peacemaker’s Maxims say,(8)I’m responsible for what I do, and I bet the person on the other end of my job thinks the same thing, too.  The Maxims are just something that lets people sleep at night, I don’t care what anyone else says.
           When I got on board the train, I sprung for a double-cabin.  As soon as I got inside it, I locked the doors and drew the blinds.  I didn’t want any light to seep in, I didn’t want anyone to see me, I wanted to be alone.  Searching through my pockets, I came across the bottle of Iso8 I kept on hand.  I never took any because I didn’t want to lose my emotion.  I killed people, and no matter what that person did, it would be disrespectful to their memory not to feel something.  The Maxims say that I shouldn’t feel anything, (9)but I always feel, always.  I take human life, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m not going to feel.
           And then there’s the Iso8, always tempting me, always begging me to try it.  I don’t use it, but I keep it on hand.  I have to regularly buy new Iso8 to make it look like I’m using.  If anyone found out that I wasn’t using Iso8, or at least drinking, that I was actually feeling after making Peace then, well, I’m not really sure exactly what would happen, but I do know it would be bad.  I’d certainly lose my job, which may not be that bad in and of itself, but I don’t want that to happen.  The Code is my life, and even though making Peace is hard, it’s the only thing I know how to do.   
            I decided not to take a Iso8 and went to sleep on the fold-out bed.  I needed the rest, and I needed to make up my mind what to do about Vance.
            Vance Milligan, tough as they come and hard to stick anything to.  Unfortunately for him, I’ve found that I’m dumb enough to keep at it until I make it stick, one way or another. 
            Why the hell didn’t I take that promotion to the Intermediary Board last year?

           Two days later, I made it out of the Badlands and back home.  I phoned into my office and my secretary ran down my appointments for the coming days.  I told her to cancel them all.
            “Oh, and you’ve got something that just came up with Vance Milligan, do you want me to cancel that, too?”
            I mulled that over in my mind.
            “What is it?”
            “It’s a benefit-structure settlement.  Apparently, the person who’s supposed to pay his Seeker hasn’t been and he wants you to get involved.”
            “What time?”
            “The only time you had open was 9:15.  I know you don’t like morning meetings, but . . .”
            “That’s okay, that’s okay,” I thought about it for a second and then said, “Go ahead and keep that one open.  This sounds pretty important and we just told him to come in, so I’d hate to cancel.”
            “What should I tell everyone else?”
            “The truth, that I’m sick,” I said before hanging up the phone.

           I got up early the next morning with a sense of dread.  My head felt like it had been run over by a train, and the obligation I had to follow up on Steiner’s allegation(10)wasn’t helping any.  The investigation would be more or less fruitless given that Defaulters always blame someone else for their situation and that a Defaulter’s word is the only evidence to support a claim.  But Defaulters usually blame small-time crooks, not guys like Vance Milligan.  Never, not once, had I heard of a Defaulter blaming a guy like Vance Milligan.  Of course, that’s because guys like Vance use a middle-man or disguise their identity in some way so that it can’t be traced back to them.  But Vance is one of the more arrogant people I’ve ever met, so it wouldn’t totally surprise me if he slipped just once. 
           It wasn’t so much the fact that Vance may have violated the Code that bothered me, it was how to handle the situation.  I’m not the best investigator in the world, but I always manage to uncover what I’m looking for.  The problem, though, is that I don’t do it in the best way.  Most Peacemakers beat around the bush and rely on the art of subtlety, stealth, and tact.
           But that’s not who I am, I come straight to the point, which generally tends to anger people.  That anger usually causes people to make a mistake, which leads me to what I want.  But Vance isn’t the kind of guy who gets angry, and he sure isn’t the kind of guy to make a mistake
            When I got to my office around 8:45, I found Vance already waiting for me. 
            “Good morning, Peacemaker,” He said while extending his hand, “How are you?”
            I wasn’t sure I wanted to shake it, but I did.
            “I’m all right, let’s go ahead inside.”
            We walked inside my office, I took some mail from my secretary, and Vance followed me into my chambers.  He took a seat in front of my desk and I sat down behind it.  We looked at each other for about a second and I got the feeling he was hiding something.  I decided to try and catch him off guard.
            “You’re here because of Kevin Steiner, aren’t you?”
           He didn’t miss a beat, but I could tell he was holding back something important.  He knew exactly what I was talking about, it was in his eyes.  His face, though, his face showed confusion.  He scrunched it up like he had no clue what I was getting at.
            “What are you talking about?”
            “Just a guy I know, but don’t worry about it.  You’re having a problem collecting on an agreement?”
           “Yes, it was an agreement we came to without going through formal channels.  I thought it was better for everyone, but, well, these things tend to happen without a Peacemaker forcing us to follow through on our commitments.”
            I thought about that for a long moment.  
            “You know,” I began as casually as I could manage, “Kevin Steiner paid me Blood Money yesterday.”
            Vance gave me another quizzical look.  He was trying too hard.
            “Really?” He paused as if trying to act like he understood what was going on but really didn’t, “What for?”
            “He wanted me to make Peace with the man who set him up to Default.”
           And that’s when Vance made his mistake.  He didn’t do much, but he moved his right-hand from out of his pocket and put it closer to where his gun would be.  I expected him to do that, which is why I took my pistol out when I sat down.  I pulled it on him as soon as he moved his hand.
            “What the hell, Bill?”
           “You know what this is about, Milligan,” I said while standing up and trying to remain as calm as I could, not particularly wanting to alert my secretary or my clerk to what was going on, “You were named by a Defaulter as a party to a Fraud.  The Code says that when such a thing happens that a Peacemaker, when satisfied as to the truth of the matter asserted, has the discretion in how to make Peace with the Fraudulent party, provided that Blood Money was paid.”
            He stared at me for a moment and then said calmly, “Bill, you know I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
            “I think you did, Milligan.”
            “That was just some scared guy desperate to regain his lost Honor.  Now put that damn gun away, Bill, and let’s get some work done.”
            “So you had nothing to do with that case?  Nothing at all?”
            “No.”
            “Then why’d he name you, Milligan?  Why’d he go through the trouble of having Blood Money on hand?”
            “I don’t know, Bill, he probably just named the first person that crossed his mind.  Put that thing away, will you?”
            “That could be true, Milligan, that could be true.  But this isn’t the first time that I’ve had a Defaulter name someone.  And normally, when the Defaulter does name someone, it’s someone related to the case.”
           Vance was silent.  Then he went for his gun, but I fired in his general direction and he froze.  I reached down to my phone and told my secretary not to worry, that Vance and I were just playing around.  I looked in Vance’s eyes and I could see his eyeballs sweating.
           “How the hell could you do this, Vance?  And be so damned sloppy!  What did you think, just because you’re such a damned good Proponent you can get away with anything, with this?  That you could escape this DisHonor?  All those years of making deals that shouldn’t have been made and getting away with it lets you do whatever you want?  Did you just think the Code didn’t matter?  What?”
            He thought about what to say very carefully, his eyes on my gun the whole time. 
            “You’re not going to do this, Bill.”
            “What’s that?”
            “You’re not going to shoot me, Bill,” he said while taking a step to his right.
            “I wouldn’t move if I were you, Vance.  I’ve heard my trigger-finger’s a little itchy.”
            He stopped moving.
            “Now, why is it that I won’t shoot you?”
           “Because, Bill, while the Code lets you do it, that’s never been enough for you.  You’ve never been satisfied following the dictates of the Code, and you hate the Maxims.  You’re the roving moralist, Bill, always doing what you think is right.  That’s why you don’t take the Iso8, because you know it’s not right, you know that that part of the Code and the Maxims isn’t right.”
            I was a little surprised he knew about that, and I guess I let it show.
           “You know you can’t handle what you do all the time.  If it isn’t morally justifiable to you, it isn’t worth doing, but you do it any way, and you let yourself suffer the pain from it.  You suffer because you know it’s not right and . . .”
            “And shooting you dead isn’t right?”
           “No, Bill, it isn’t right, and you know it.  You need something more than just the dictates of the Code to believe that something is right, and if you don’t believe that something is right in some way, then you’ll do everything you can to get out of doing it.   
           “And you don’t have that here, Bill, you just don’t.  You can’t justify shooting me, probably not even turning me in.  Everyone does what I do, everyone.  It’s what makes the Code work.  We bend the rules a little because strict allegiance to the Code just isn’t possible, nothing would get done.  You have to bend the rules a little, you have to get work done for your Seeker.  We’d all be out of business if it was otherwise . . .”
           The bullet from my pistol went through his head and he slowly slumped to the ground, a look of shock tattooed on his dead face.  His blood and brains painted parts of my office and my bookshelves.  I walked over to his lifeless body while I holstered my revolver.  When I reached his body I stared down at him for a few moments.
            “You’re right, Vance, I always did need something more.”

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