Roland threw his empty pint glass at the other post-human’s face. It shattered on impact, embedding shards deep into Jim’s cheeks and forehead. His head snapped back, and he blinked in shock a few times.

“Sorry,” he said, “I deserved that.”

“And I deserved that,” Roland said to Manny. “No hard feelings. I get why you’re pissed. But kid, you’ve got to understand something. Austin is home to you. To me it’s just another city, held by just another side. Half my remaining memories are of one cause or another asking me to go murder in their name. I’m fuckin’ done with it.”

Manny looked to Major Clark. The SDF officer’s eyes were lit by a familiar cold fire. He spoke in a tone of barely controlled anger.

“That is your right, of course. You can choose to leave, just as I will choose to fight and die. I wonder, what will Manny choose?”

Manny hadn’t really settled on that himself. Before he could stumble through his response, Sasha spoke.

“I’ll fight,” she said. “I don’t know much about guns. But I’ll do my best.”

Roland slumped back in his chair and tossed his arms up in a dramatic show of frustration.

“Et tu, Jesus Girl?”

“I’ll fight,” Manny said to Major Clark, doing his best to talk over Roland. “I’ll choose to fight too.”

“This isn’t going to work, you know,” Roland said. “I’m not going to be shamed into fighting again. It’s just not going to fucking happen.”

Jim leaned in. He fixed Roland with a look that seemed almost hungry.

“I think it will happen. I think the peculiar arc of your moral compass won’t let you leave these kids to die.” He seemed surprised by the revelation. “Huh! Fascinating.”

“Enough of that,” Donald Farris sounded angry. “I won’t stand to see this man badgered and pressured into fighting against his will. We might as well dissolve the council for now and reconvene without Roland.”

“Good!” Roland stood up and stomped over to the exit. “If that’s all you people need from me, I’m going to get good and pissed and start my walk back to Arizona.” He flipped his middle finger out at the room and slammed the door behind him as he left.

All eyes turned to Manny.

“I should…probably go talk to him.”

“Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable doing, Emmanuel,” Donald said.

“Fuck that,” Jim said. “The bastard is on the ropes. Shame him! Shame him good.”

As he headed for the exit, Manny looked to Major Clark. The old soldier’s one good eye was narrow and focused.

“Manny,” he said, “if he didn’t want to talk he wouldn’t have gone up to the bar. He’d have just left. There’s no honor lost in another conversation. Another try.”