Taking the paper gently, Tim gazes at it, eyes softening. She's beautiful. Whoever made this drew her beautifully, so lifelike in the nuance of her emotions. It makes his heart ache.

"Thank you," he says, finally passing it back. He wishes he could keep it, but he's not long for this or any world, so there'd be no point. Especially if the drawing is Sasha's ticket to freedom. "It's okay. I don't... I don't need to be here. You guys have a little community and everything, and I'm---" Broken. The self-deprecation goes unsaid, skipped over like a censor. "I'm okay to be dead. I'm at peace with it. Just... fight for Sasha. And take care of her for me, if it all works out."