There's a tiny hitch of breath before he says "You too," too quickly to shake or choke up, and the connection goes silent.

Edgar's shirt falls onto the tarp, followed by undershirt, followed by the rest of his clothes one by one. He considers for a moment keeping his undershorts, and decides he'd better be on the safe side and just hope no one comes along while he's scrubbing down at the washing station they've got right by the spare clothes.

He finishes quickly, grabs a bundle -- simple, shapeless pants and shirt, he's fine with that -- and pulls them on over damp skin. And then, as he promised he'd do, he puts out a hand to the heap of clothes he was wearing while he held Nimona, and sets them on fire. Stays a little while, watching them burn. Stamps out the last smoldering embers when they're done.

And then heads for the back of the barn to pick up the tent, and for the treeline to set up for the night, thinking of John's voice waiting for him.