You know, as much as I try to shrug the comment off, there are barbs in her words that cut straight through. It's not really funny, I think to myself, even if her sarcastic tone relieves me real quick. Yeah, I was worried that she'd hang herself. Maybe equally as much, I was afraid that she'd do it in front of me. I've had enough people killing themselves in front of me, one way or another, and that's what compels me to walk on over and snag the rope casually from her hands just in case. Worse than anything else is the idea of not trying to help at all if someone's thinking about hurting oneself.

It's a depressing train of thought, so I try to push that away real quick.

"I know," I tell her pointedly, as I start looping the rope around and throw it over my shoulder, considering its thickness and wondering how it might come in handy later on. I've had an itching to hunt some boar. "You've got a knife on you?"