"He's not wrong," Karen says, her voice soft and her small smile bittersweet. She can't claim to have known Harold even a fraction as well as John — and it's strange to start thinking about him in the past tense, though the fact of the matter is that he's not here anymore — but she thinks he was right about a lot of things, really. He sure as hell had the right idea with the team he put together; she wouldn't have been so quick to agree to join in otherwise, even while trying to keep up another job as a front. Besides, as it was told to her, he quite probably saved John's life. That, to her, goes a long way.

His phrasing echoes in her head, and Karen tries not to latch onto that, not to give it too much meaning. This isn't the time, even if she knows it must be true and has been for a while. She could say it, it would be so easy to say it, but she doubts he'd want something like that attributed to a time like this.

There are enough ways that she can show him, anyway. She's here, and she doesn't intend to go anywhere, leaning in close, her lips brushing his cheek. "It makes all the difference."