"Picking up strays would just be a waste of time," Anna chimes in, not exactly unkind but still a little sharp. Her knuckles are white in the grip she has on her belt, the only anchor she has right now. "I mean, I guess we aren't exactly on a timer, but the longer we take the longer--" The longer Kratos suffers, but she can't exactly just say that. She grips her belt even tighter, muscles straining with the effort. "Well, the longer Sin is around to torment Spira."

A few extra--days? weeks? She knows it's not that much time, realistically. But whenever she thinks of Sin, thinks of Kratos, sweating blood and crying as he breaks under the weight of all his grief, it's hard not to feel like she hasn't already wasted too much.