I stood away from the railing, stuck my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. “Never.”
Yeah, no, this is not something Taylor is willing to budge on.
“Never’s pretty final. If you’re so certain, what do you have to lose by hearing everyone out? Hearing me out? I’ve got coffee and lunch in my bag, we can sit down, talk it all out. If you’re willing, we can then go meet the others. I’ll talk to them with you, back you up, keep Bitch from murdering you.”
I guess that’s fair enough? The main thing Taylor has to lose here is her mood, I suppose. And her life if Lisa and Brian fail on that last thing.
I shook my head, turned and rested my back against the railing, looking at the memorial, rather than the city.
So many dead. So pointless. What was wrong with this world, that it was this fucked up?
It’s written by an author with a penchant for fucked-up-ness.
That people like Sophia and Armsmaster were heroes? That there couldn’t even be a proper funeral for the people who had given their lives, because of a small handful of grandstanding idiots?
That first one comes from people defining themselves as heroes or villains. Well, I suppose Sophia is an exception on that front, given her arrangement with the Wards, but you get what I mean.
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