Neither of them has to try to seek death out, here. Though, if he did have the opportunity to leave...

That's a problem for another day. Or, more likely, for never.

"I do. I think... down that way." Roland nods toward one section of the hall, pulling Susannah toward it by their linked hands. Somewhere in the Capitol, a Susannah-fangirl is plotting fic with a fever that deepens with each second they keep holding onto one another.

"Might end up going through water to get to it," he cautions, because she may say she's prepared to die with him but he wants to make sure she knows the risk. "How strong is your swimming?"