[The hand holding the gun--his right hand--shakes. It's almost imperceptible, but there's enough of a tremble that the soldier no longer trusts himself to take a steady shot.
He lowers his gun, stares at the man.]
I don't... have friends.
[He doesn't have anything.
What the hell is he supposed to do now? He can't kill this man. He knows it now, as surely as he knows how to use any weapon handed to him.]
no subject
He lowers his gun, stares at the man.]
I don't... have friends.
[He doesn't have anything.
What the hell is he supposed to do now? He can't kill this man. He knows it now, as surely as he knows how to use any weapon handed to him.]