"That's what I said," the Balladeer agrees, though perhaps he didn't say so in quite so many words. He'd always thought it was understood. If not for that, after all, Booth probably would have shot him a while ago. "Come on, you know what I do. If it weren't important, I wouldn't be here. It's more for YOUR benefit than mine."

Sara Jane takes no immediate notice of either, still digging through her bag. "I know, I know. But John's got to have something in mind! He's been talking with that guy who sells the guns lately - oh, no, that isn't it..."

Something in mind? What could he possibly have in mind? They can't just hire a replacement - and anyway it's hardly his fault history looks poorly on them. "You're really just shooting the messenger," the Balladeer says, and instantly regrets his choice of words. "Nothing you do is going to change history. It just doesn't work like - what are you looking for?" She's obviously not really listening to him...is she going for her weapon?

"Oh, you know. There's just so much crap in here..." With a deafening bang, a hole explodes out of the side of the bag, and blood spurts from the side of the Balladeer's shoulder. "Ah! Found it!"