"Don't," Bill cut in, walking away from Jenso towards his shirt, "You did what you could. That's more than anyone could have asked. If you didn't step in, me and my family might have been killed too." Although Bill reassured him, did his words really mean anything? He grabbed Jenso's shirt and walked back over to him. "It's got a couple holes in it, sorry," Bill croaked, opening the white shirt to reveal the stab wounds and vivid red stains. "My wife is making your a shirt upstairs as we speak."