To say she's feeling a little punchy today would be an understatement.

(She's gotten used to his face, adorned only with scars. It had been strange to see the make-up on the tape, even smeared and faded as it was. It had been stranger still to see him treated like a thing.

Like something that could be broken and no one would care.

She's hardly about to diagnose him as a misunderstood choirboy, but either the law means something--to everyone, all the time--or it means nothing at all.

Put more simply: fuck the police.)



"So. How many of his friends were cowards?"