No, he was a man. For me. [A Grandfather, or mentor even. Carrying her around, teaching her things that she would slowly use to make a culture, her first words, before handing her over to Rome when the woman wanted her]

...Communism? It... it still exists? [Pauses] I have a lot of reasons to hate a lot of people... [And yet. She can't really bring herself to hate the France's, as much as she acts like she does. Stupid family ties.





Oh are you enjoying that really dark look on her face, the way she almost smiles in bloodthirsty delight]
Good. What streets, I'll make sure I'm there to see that bastardo suffer for all that he's done.
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crotchroses

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