@sealone | cont.
Iғ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ, that unnerving smile does make her double down on her suspicions. Another person might have faltered, but there's not a single soul in this building (or affiliated with it) that has even an inch of her trust, and there is something dark in her eyes, too. The itch for violence is constant, is building, and whenever they are in between attacks, she gets restless like a trapped animal. There is no illusion that she could win in a fair one on one combat: even if her rage makes her much stronger than one would think, has her rip apart things that should be well stronger than she is, there's the whole cowardy deal of simply vanishing into thin air.
"If they're not dead, they probably wish they were." She doesn't know what he does to people, but she's paying attention, and she can put some pieces together. Helen has people wandering her corridors forever: she knows this, simply because the difference between her and the bastards in this Institute is that she had been upfront about it, had made no intent of hiding her nature. Jane's worms burrowed into flesh, tearing and eating until there was nothing left. She would be damned if the whole dissolving into fog situation doesn't have something to do with it. Fears aren't creative. They stuck to one thing and got really good at it.
"I think you're as much of a pretentious fucker acting like you're still human like the rest of them."
