No reason it can't be both a death spiral and a way to keep his head above water. Duality of man or some trite shit like that. He's not aiming to die, but his targets, while organized, are not always the best of the best. There's not a lot of chance. He's good. He is, perhaps, too good at the job. But he knows that it only takes one slip. He's only human, and there are people out there who are also very good at their jobs.

He picks carefully. He doesn't aim to die. He's not sure he's gonna feel all that much if it gets to that point, though.

He shakes his head a little, more a rocking back and forth against the edge of the bed. "If this ends up being enough momentum, we can figure something out next time you catch up. Can do more good with two at the task."

It doesn't need explaining, he figures, since Steve never asked for one. The good captain's done more than enough vigilantism in the past many years to know better. But it bubbles up. Maybe having someone to talk to has loosened his tongue a bit.

"Half the world gone, and there's still all these assholes out to make a quick buck by fucking over good people just trying to live their lives. There's still drugs, still guns, there's still people taken off the street and shoved in shipping containers, and for fucking what? It's not like anyone has to fight for," he sneers, "resources. We're all trying to figure out how to live anymore. Why do these sons of bitches get to still be here, huh? In what universe is that just and fair?"