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I was drifting till we crossed paths. Didn't give a damn whether I lived or died.
But now I find myself suddenly caring. Second-guessing before I jump into the line of fire.
When a bullet grazes me, or a knife cuts me, I don't immediately think about the guy who does it.
I think about you. And what it'd mean to leave you behind if I screwed up.
To put it another way... I handled death once already.
I think I can handle you.