Drunken Sailor

[Reeves]

For about seven seconds, he did nothing but just look at her, and then he started speaking and just being entirely honest with whatever he'd observed so far.

"You're very good at pretending that the Legion actually turned you into something more than just an angry little girl. But the truth is, you're every bit the person you used to be and you never actually grew up. You're as angry as you always were, you've kept every aspect of you that existed prior to enlisting. There doesn't even need to be a lit match nearby for you to explode and scream at somebody, you self combust of your own accord. You find it absolutely surprising when somebody is considerate of your needs and without a veiled interest. Combine that with your rabid mix of hate and fear for being touched, and I'd assume that your economically destitute situation on Houston forced you into being a sex worker, or you were naive and thought somebody wanted more than just what was under your clothes. In conversation you'll consistently deflect the subject if it gets anywhere close to you, almost as if you're deterred from the idea of talking about yourself on account of insecurities. You're a tall well built woman, but you still play a guitar decorated as if meant for a teenager, and that can be a metaphor for everything else about you too. There's also the fact that despite all your best attempts to appear unmolested by the horrors of war and violence, you're littered with emotional scarring and trauma."

He needed a drink after going through all of that, so he knocked the second one back and handled the burn that seemed to just keep going. Either she was going to scream at him and maybe even assault for everything he'd just said, or not say anything at all. There wasn't a significant chance for anything else to happen, at least not with her.