A boy named Sous

"No." It was a whisper this time -- lets get those viewers leaning way in -- as Priestly buried his head in Dinah's hair. "I can't do this without you by my side," he said, lifting his head again now to the ceiling. "I won't."

He snapped his head to the side, looking at the gun Pinkie had conveniently left behind "If you're leaving, then so am I." He grabbed up the gun, still clutching Dinah in his other hand. "It's -- it's still warm. Dinah, can you feel it? How can it be warm when you're so cold? This is --" he sobbed, gasping for breath. "This is how it's meant to be." He pressed one more kiss to Dinah's lips, then lifted the gun, placing the barrel under his chin. He looked up at the sky -- or the ceiling of the crypt, whichever, viewers weren't going to care about the little details, any more.

"We'll never have to deliver dry cleaning again."

BANG.