>He really was heartless.
People like you... People who don't have a heart
in their chest, who probably don't even have emotions or a soul...
>Her blood settling, the horned woman turns her back on him.
You're the kind of people who make me sick, and damned if I'll work for someone who'd just as soon piss
on this place as protect it, if you had a mind to.
>Deep down, though, she couldn't suppress the small sense of inadequacy she felt. The sense that this was the final proof of just how much of a coward she was. How she was so afraid of hurting those she cared about by being hurt or just being hurt herself that she didn't deserve to be a hero.
>...But this guy? He wasn't a hero. He wasn't even a good person, let alone the kind of man the people around here should look up to. Nobody this... Inhuman should ever be in charge of anything.
I don't want your pity. I don't want your forgiveness.
>Turning back to face him, eyes fierce, the woman glares at him.
I want you to understand
. To take a step outside that little gated community you call a brain and think about how others
feel. To have empathy
But no. That's too much to ask. You
are too important. You
are right, and everyone else is wrong. If you
wanted to blow up the planet and kill everyone
else, who are we to try and stop you? Just misinformed, unusable trash
>Putting a finger in his face, the woman's voice rises again.
They have a word
for that, you know. Sociopath
. Your world, your opinions, only you
matter, and you'll be damned
before you'll so much as stop to think about others in a way that doesn't affect you. And don't try to excuse it with that "But I started the Riftguard!" crap. Sociopaths are successful and helpful and nice
because they use
>Free hand crumpling up the pink slip, a small growl grows in the back of her throat as she speaks, her blood slowly beginning to rise again.
You don't care
about people. You care about what they think
of you. If someone found out some deep, dark, horrible secret about you, and you just so happened
to think about killing them, I can guarantee
you wouldn't think about their loved ones or who they are as a person or how you might feel about taking a life, but how you could get away
>Emotions whirling, the runaway tosses the crumpled slip aside, slamming the pointing hand back down to his desk.
Even if you couldn't
trust me to not run away, you're too right
to consider an alternative. You're too right
to have empathy for the shit I have to put up with, and offer me an alternative. Because you
more important than me being able to pay for a sick father's medical care, or to do something helpful.
>Pushing away from his desk, the woman shoots him a middle-fingered salute as she turns and walks for the door.
You're a piece of shit
, and I hope you get everything
that's coming to you.