"The god damn audacity of them!" Nestor shouted, angrily kicking over a trash can. "The fucking press is still worried about celebrities when someone just fucking died!" He screamed in disbelief. "34?" He asked, now responding to what she said a few moments ago. "If this is contagious..." He trailed off. "It will spread quickly." He rubbed his temples, frustrated.<br/><br/>He recomposed himself. "Come on, we need to inform people. We can start with anyone close to you. Then it can spread by word of mouth. And spread it will." He walked over to her and opened her hand, placing the gun in it. "He could be the only one," He began, closing her hand around the gun. "But you may need that."