I was knocked to the floor. Winded. Stunned. But it was more than that. After all, what was the point? If every journey was doomed, if every opportunity was a guaranteed loss, if every deck was stacked--well, just what exactly was the bloody point? I raised my eyes to his, tried to focus. There's a girl I'd like you to-- He drew a finger across his throat. I don't care how. Don't want to know, really. But if you find yourself running short on ideas, as I suspect you will--well, there's a revolver in here. Loaded. I worked the jaws. I can't-- I protested hoarsely. I mean, really--I can't! I was helped to my feet. My jacket was swiped at with great, broad strokes. The smile did not quite reach his eyes. Lucky for me I ran into you! Meet Philadelphia Potts, a bloke so profoundly unlucky that despite his best efforts, disaster follows in his wake.