Bree saw what he was going to do, what he'd had planned, from the moment his feet hit the ferry ramp.

He was drunk.

He was high?

Maybe he was just plain old out-of-his-goddamn-skull crazy? Either way, fortune spat in her face as she tried to catch the eye of the security guard - the very instant he tried to snatch at the hat blown from his head. And the green-eyed man was past him in the blink of an eye, Bree only a few yards behind him - but he wasn't stopping. He wasn't slowing in the least though the ferry was already well under way.

She was many things, some of them certainly less than lovely, but pettiness really wasn't among her faults. Bree could admit - to herself at least - that he'd given her a good run, though for her part she had barely begun to breathe a little heavy. But even she could see a long jump ahead of the guy to the ferry, she doubted even an Olympic athlete could have managed.

Bree groaned thickly with frustration in the back of her throat, already sure she was going to have to pull this jack ass from the drink. She'd do it though. She wouldn't like it at all, but she'd do it. And in the seconds before he leapt, Bree already reassured herself with a thought that almost made her smile: if he gave her any shit when she pulled him out, she'd shoot the bastard. Somewhere not-too-vital of course, but with Victor's tacit approval from beyond the grave she was sure. Maybe tonight he'd even forego his nocturnal visit to her dreams, half his head gristle and bone, the one bloodshot eye left to him always accusing her, letting her know without a word that he was so very, very dead and it was all her fault...

And then the impossible happened, and the ferry seemed to snatch the green-eyed man from the air like a lover, or a well-loved child. Bree could only stand stunned, inches from the edge of the dock herself. She could feel the blood drain from her face, grey eyes wide and helpless to do a damn thing but watch as he turned to face her with a smug smile and then... Then he took a bow...

Bree hadn't drawn her gun at any point during the chase, and she didn't now either, though she'd never been more sorely tempted in her life. But no, no... There were too many civilians, and that rule of engagement was too well-ingrained in her head: never pull your weapon - never- unless you mean to use it. She didn't, and she wouldn't, and even if she could? Any shot she might have had was long gone, sailing away further and further by the second over the ocean. Headed north.

Bree shook her head, dumbfounded, both hands wrapped white-knuckled around the dock ramp railing as the only words "WHY!?" she wailed, the word coming up from her chest in a scream of anguish. "Why did you do it? [i]DAMN YOU, WHY!?[/i] What did Victor ever do to you?"

Rage and sorrow warred for supremacy in her features, a tear running down her cheek unheeded as her lips pulled back in a snarl. Bree knew she wouldn't get her answer, but she knew she'd never sleep again without it either.

[i]"WHY DID YOU KILL HIM!?"[/i]