The padlock on the door was undamaged, or at least, it was until Dreamer's right hand got a hold of it.  He snapped it off and stepped inside the building, watchful for threats anyway, but there were none.  He moved toward the room where the fuels and oils were kept, and as he did so he walked passed the ruined remains of a mangled hay baler.  Nothing on it had been fixed or even cleaned since the last time he'd seen it... his dried blood still stained the inside of it and the chains still lay in a shattered pile inside.  Sometimes he was still amazed by what he had done that day.<br/><br/>He found several small red plastic gas containers, and gripping two full ones in his right hand and one in his left, he headed back to the car.  He carried them to the side of the car, opened the cover to the gas tank, and began emptying them into it, pointedly not looking at Maeve as he worked.  He didn't want to spill any, for all kinds of reasons.<br/><br/>When he was done, he moved to stand just outside the door to the back seat, and he crouched, leaning his arms against the window where he'd smashed the glass earlier.  He looked at Maeve, and she looked back at him calmly.  He could see that she had come to some kind of realization... she looked tired and tears had stained her face, but her bloodshot eyes were no longer streaming fresh ones. Somehow her expression wasn't as bleak as it had been... and he noted how the SMG had been rather deliberately set down on the floor of the car.<br/><br/>"Are you all right?"  He asked quietly, aware that they might not have a chance to talk, just the two of them, for some time after this.  "I'm sorry I was too late..." he looked away, deciding he probably shouldn't go back to that subject.  He caught sight of the open wound on his arm and he turned back to her.  "Is there anything you would like to ask me, Maeve?"  He asked, quietly, his steel-gray eyes not guarded as they had so often been in the past.