This was so out of character for Connor -- so unlike him. He was usually the picture of cool confidence, never stressing, never worried, never upset. He recovered well in situations out of his control and had a way of making people feel like the things they had caught him off his guard with were actually things he'd been expecting all along. He prided himself on that -- on every surprise coming off like part of the plan. But this was one he had no way to plan for, no way to play off, and no way to face. Part of him hated everyone involved in this whole thing for their parts in it -- Wes and Rebecca, Laurel and Michaela, even Sam himself. He hated them for robbing him of his calm... the cool exterior that held him together, no matter how mixed up he might be on the inside. There was none of that anymore. He hadn't been able to hold it together at all, and maybe that was why he was here in the first place.

Connor looked down at the pills in his hand for a moment, running over about a million possibilities in his head. What if he took them and they made him sleep, and he woke up in jail? Or what if he slipped up and told Chase something that would put him in danger? But in the end, the rush of thoughts in his mind needed to slow down at least a little, and Connor carefully popped two of the pills out of the strip and swallowed them dry. "Something... Something really terrible happened," he said, his voice a mere breathy whisper in the car, almost so low that Chase may not have even heard him over the sound of the car's engine and heater. "I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't be dragging you into this. I just needed someone, and... I ended up here."