[ Fenris had been staring down at his container of ice cream as he revealed this bit of his past, digging into it with his spoon, but Wade's reaction gave him pause. He looks up, brows furrowing as the other struggles to take it in. Slavery was so commonplace in Thedas, legal or not, that it's not a reaction he's used to. ]
When I was a child it certainly seemed that way. Before I knew better. It's in the past, at any rate. [ Something catches his attention, though. ] Wait a minute...when did I tell you he was my master?
[The question catches Wade off-guard, and he realizes to his embarrassment that he's been staring at Fenris's markings for some time now. Before, he'd thought they were just tattoos or war paint or even some weird sort of skin pigmentation, one that glowed with his moods. Wade knows the truth now, and he mentally curses himself for being so naive.
Of course it hurts.
It explains a lot, really-- his sensitivity to touch, his general sour mood, how he always seems to carry himself gingerly as if nursing bruises on his body. Like the itching burning feeling that Wade had long since gotten used to, the feeling of cancer constantly taking rapacious bites out of his skin, only to have it replenished. Wade glances up to meet Fenris's eyes now, his mouth quirking in an embarrassed smile.]
Might not've been you then. You remember when things were crazy and we had doubles of ourselves wandering around? I met another you. Someone who didn't know me. He was looking for Danarius. Seemed in a hurry to get back to him, actually.
[There are questions in Wade's eyes now, questions he's a little afraid to ask.]
[ He seems to almost expect this — somehow, he feels as if there wouldn't be very many versions of himself that escaped the clutches of Tevinter and its magisters. Perhaps that's bleak, but he feels as if his situation was one in a million. At least, as far as multidimensional versions of himself goes...or whatever.]
As I said, there was a time where I did not know better. Slaves don't think of freedom. Only of their master's desires. More often than not...they can't comprehend anything else. [ He shakes his head, words bitter as he drops his spoon into the container. ] Sometimes when we released them...we knew they would go back. To their masters. There was a time when I would do the same.
[ He sighs, glancing up at Wade. ]
It's a good thing Danarius wasn't around. He likely would have ordered your death, and that version of myself would have complied without hesitation. I was little more than a weapon to him.
[Wade flinches as Fenris meets his gaze, knowing full well that his expression is still locked into that naked look of horror. It was, admittedly, hard to hear Fenris speak about his former master and not think of the sadistic Dr. Killebrew. But for all the good doctor's twisted love of torture and subjugation, Wade was never a slave to him. He never had his mind beaten down and gaslit into following Killebrew's orders. He'd been turned into a weapon-- a dangerous, volatile and unpredictable one to be sure, but one who was very much still in possession of his own free will.
He finds himself unable to hold eye contact for long, looking down at the unopened container of ice cream still clenched in his hands.]
How long? [His voice is low; hoarse.] How long was he your... your master?
[ Fenris holds Wade's stare a moment, trying to comprehend the look of horror on Wade's face. He's unused to any mention of slavery inciting little more than awkward conversation from anyone who wasn't an elf. That, or a forced kind of pitty.
It's...strange, to say the least. ]
Hard to say, exactly. Since I was a child...I believe he was my mother's master first, and by extension mine. It wasn't until I got older when I began to directly serve him.
[Likewise, Wade sees Fenris's brow furrow in an expression he can't fully read. Confusion, maybe? Or scrutiny? Maybe he was expecting Wade to laugh the whole thing off, to attempt to ease the seriousness of the conversation with a crude joke. He can't exactly blame him for thinking that-- not with his track record.
Wade struggles to shape his expression into something more neutral.]
Se-- [His voice breaks, and he clears his throat with a chagrined shake of his head.] Sorry. Serve him in what way, exactly? I mean-- if you're okay with gettin' into that.
[He has a vague sense of dread of what that could entail. It's hard not to jump to that conclusion, considering the subject matter.]
[ Fenris can tell, he thinks, what Wade is wondering. He's been asked that question before — albeit with less dread and more weird curiosity. Congratulations, Wade, you're more subtle than the pirate with no pants. ]
However he desired. I was his.
[ It's probably the best he can do to answer the question without getting into all the unpleasant details. To spare Wade knowing the nitty-gritty of what he had endured — breaking down decades of grim details into just six words. ]
[He was half-expecting this reply, but it hurts him all the same, hurts him to the point that he winces as if Fenris had actually physically struck him. Wade jerks his head away, once again no longer able to meet the elf's eyes. Another awkward swallow, and this time both hands move upwards to briefly cover his face, fingers rubbing at his eyelids as if nursing a bad headache.]
...Jesus. [The word is a whisper, and he can't think of anything else to say. He doesn't think there's anything else that can be said.]
[ Again, Fenris is having trouble parsing Wade's shift in demeanor. He can't, for the life of him, understand why he looks so despondent. It's almost as if Wade is the one telling the story — as if he was the one who lived it. There was a time when Fenris would have a stronger reaction to these memories, but they are just part of him now. Like an arm or a leg. An extension of himself that he has learned to live with.
His brows crease in concern. ]
Wade...[ With the way the other can't even look at him, he wonders... ] Are you...alright?
[Of all the things Fenris could've said in that moment, it's this that completely blindsides Wade. He can't help it. With one hand still covering his eyes, he begins to laugh. It's not a small, cynical chuckle but an actual full-on belly laugh, one that rocks him back onto Fenris's bed until he nearly tips over, his body shaking with his paroxysms.
What delicious irony. Fenris had been through hell, had been through one of the worst scenarios Wade could imagine, and he's asking Wade if he's all right? It's almost more than he can bear.
After a few excruciating minutes, Wade's laughter finally tapers off into scattered chuckles before stopping completely. He sighs, righting himself and wiping his eyes before regarding Fenris with an apologetic smile.]
Sorry. Wasn't laughin' at you, honest. It's just... fuck.
[He shakes his head, that smile turning into something rueful and sardonic.]
All I can say is... I take back everything I may have said about you bein' cranky and broody. 'Cause you're doin' fucking fantastic, all things considered.
[ Years ago, Fenris would have probably reacted to the laughing with some form of volatility. He would have gotten defensive or rolled his eyes, depending on who it was that did the laughing. But now, from Wade — especially after the look he had just been giving him, his concern only grew.
When Wade finally stops and apologizes, he doesn't need to say much to convince Fenris.
He doesn't quite know how to react to what he's being told. Again. His ears slope back a bit, brows creasing further as his mouth opens and closes for lack of any real response.
No one has ever told him he was handling things well. And he never quite thought he was either. Maybe now, finally settling on just the right amount of anger and resentment to focus on while continuing on with his life. But even still, no one has ever expressed this about the way he handled his trauma. ]
I...[ He clears his throat. ] It has been quite some time since I've spoken about this at length. Not since...Hawke.
[The mention of Hawke pulls Wade back to New Amsterdam, back to untrustworthy coalitions and meals made of insect meat. He thinks of Hawke, of Cassandra, of Lance and Simon and Stephen and especially of Nate. He thinks of his arrival here, of his increasingly desperate search to find any of his friends; of finding Fenris and the disappointment he felt-- almost like a physical pain-- when Fenris once again had no memory of him.
He thinks about how he'd watched Fenris die, watched him plead for the man who enslaved him like a lost and frightened child as his blood pooled in the streets and the life faded from his eyes.
Wade's mouth quirks in an awkward attempt at a disarming smile, and he rolls his shoulders in a shrug he hopes passes as nonchalant.]
Don't really know what I need to be thanked for. I'm just glad you're still here. A-away from whatsisface, I mean.
[ Fenris hesitates, that uncertainty on how to express one of his many thoughts cropping up again. He averts his gaze to a stray candle along the wall, focusing on it intently as if he were trying to alight it with his gaze. ]
Considering I never properly thanked you for...rescuing me...I would say it is owed to you.
[What must be going on in that head of his? The conversation's taken a turn that Wade wasn't expecting, and he's sure that Fenris must be as uncomfortable as he himself feels.
It's been quite some time since I've spoken about this at length. Not since... Hawke.
The enormity of that statement makes it difficult to think clearly. How long had Fenris carried this inside of him, without anyone knowing? How many people had simply assumed he was one of those dark and broody edgelord types without really understanding what he had been through?
Wade forces out a chuckle, less out of genuine mirth and more out of a complete lack of knowledge of how else to react.]
I mean... figured I owe you for the Skee-Ball game, so that puts us about even. Besides, I wasn't about to watch you die a second time.
[ Ah, right. His other self. Death was kind for him...he can say that with confidence. Fenris won't mourn the death of a version of himself so utterly broken and lost.
But instead of Wade watching Fenris die again, Fenris almost watched Wade die instead. His lips curl down into a frown at the thought, brows furrowed and gaze sharp. He pushes himself off the desk and lowers himself onto the other side of the mattress, crossing his legs.
[It's unexpected, Fenris moving to sit near him like that, but even more unexpected is the confession immediately afterwards. During their brief reunion in Meadowlark he'd come to view Fenris as sort of a friend-- or at the very least, someone he could enjoy playing the occasional arcade game with-- but he never really knew if Fenris felt the same about him. Stating such a preference may not have been a ringing endorsement to most people, but for someone like Wade, who didn't exactly fill people with warm fuzzies back at home, it meant a whole lot. There weren't a lot of people who cared whether he lived or died, after all.
He finds himself unable to meet Fenris's eyes again.]
Yeah, I... um. [An awkward clearing of his throat.] I've been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. That day, I mean. The day I almost... y'know. Died.
[ Fenris admits easily, glancing over at Wade, immediately noticing how he's avoiding eye contact again. He doesn't say anything more, for now, first waiting to see what Wade wanted to say first before he questions him. Because he has questions, much like Wade had for Fenris.
There's one thing he is particularly avoiding discussing, naturally. ]
[An awkward huff of laughter. The atmosphere seems to have changed once again, and Wade finds himself wishing for that earlier levity, of some opportunity to crack a joke or make a lighthearted comment so that he could once again be in control of the conversation.]
You can ask me your questions first, if you want. Since you pretty much did all the talking so far.
[ Fenris is far too used to these awkward and tense moments for him to feel particularly hesitant to venture further, though he does give a brief pause just long enough to figure out how to word his question. And even with this thought being given he still speaks with a kind of blunt force. ]
[That question, at least, is one that's easier to answer. Wade adjusts his posture to something a little more relaxed, finally opening his softened container of ice cream.]
A whole lot, really. Spite. Loneliness. Desperation. The exhaustion brought on by living too long. Basically take all the issues I have, dial 'em up to eleven, toss in a nonexistent moral compass... mix and serve scalding.
He-- the real other me, I mean-- killed pretty much everyone in his own universe. I'm talkin' men, women, children... even started takin' out people from other universes, too. Including other versions of me-- the ones he didn't recruit, anyway. Some of 'em were even my teammates, which made it even more personal.
[He scowls.] Hit the hardest when they killed the dog. I liked that dog.
[ He's not entirely sure what he expected to come of his question. This other Wade, nothing like the one he knows, wasn't someone Fenris would think of when he pictured an alternative version of the man. He prepares himself to hear something completely at odds with what he knows of Wade, but it’s still not enough to quell his surprise. Spite, loneliness, desperation — all of these words are emotions he has known all too well. Words that he has an intimate familiarity with. He hadn’t considered it at the time, with his mind so focused on other things, but hearing Wade now…he sounds like how he could have been. How he imagined himself to be had he not broken free of his chains. It’s just so familiar. Too familiar. Familiar enough that Fenris almost feels as if he can share the pain…enough that he can feel white-hot anger rising inside of him.
What strikes Fenris is the fact that he hadn’t had to deal with this alternative self. He lived in another reality and only recently merged with his own, and he was fortunate enough not to encounter him. Meanwhile, Wade has apparently dealt with his morally defunct counterpart before now. It takes a lot to shock Fenris — or at the very least, shock him enough that it’s visible on his face and heard in his tone, yet here he is. ]
He was so filled with spite and rage that he traversed worlds to get to you?
[He's never seen Fenris react like this before. He felt he knew Fenris enough to get a handle on his personality, and the elf's go-to response to things like this typically seemed to tend toward nothing more intense than biting snark or detached cynicism, if it didn't anger him outright.
Apparently even a magically-tortured former slave could still find it in himself to be shocked at the evils of the world. Wade's not entirely sure that's a good thing.
He shakes his head at Fenris's question.]
Not at me, no. I've had so many people come after me for some slight or another that I'm pretty much inured to it at this point. But this was different. He didn't just want to kill me, he wanted to kill everyone. Destroyed a ton of worlds before he even got to mine, even worlds that existed for way longer than mine did. Would've eventually come after your world too, if we hadn't stopped him.
He... I guess he thought it was the only way we could be free. All of us. Some kinda, I dunno-- multiverse-wide murder-suicide pact, or something.
You get what I'm saying? If this was out of any sort of revenge, it was for being born.
[ It should sound ridiculous to anyone else that one person could attract such attention wherever they went, but not to Fenris. He's seen it firsthand, how Hawke managed to upset someone or another by simply existing. Surviving. He wonders if that's how it is for Wade as well. Then it occurs to him that he doesn't know much about him, does he?
And yet, he understood.
He offers a solemn nod of his head, gaze shifting to a spot on the floor. ]
I get it. All too well. [ He doesn't have a problem admitting that. ] He was a monster. But monsters are created.
[ Literally and figuratively. ]
There is nothing that I could say that wouldn't sound hollow. For what it's worth, I am sorry.
[Wade shrugs, a furtive jerk of one shoulder.] Eh, I'm a monster too. Only difference is I'm able to hide it under a veneer of wacky shenanigans and scatological humor. Mostly, anyway.
[He sighs, busying himself with digging around in his ice cream.] That's the worst part about it, I think. That I got him. I understood where he was comin' from. Guy might've been a genocidal psychopath, but... at his basic elements he was me, y'know? Me taken to a huge extreme, maybe, but me nonetheless. Wanting the pain to end. Living too long. Being just so fucking exhausted with all the bullshit and the suffering that life throws at you every day. Not all that surprising that I'd feel... I dunno. A sense of kinship with a guy like that, I guess.
...Until he started goin' after the people I cared about.
[The pointed look Wade now gives to Fenris should speak volumes of what he's too insecure to say aloud.]
[ Fenris isn't sure why, but when Wade gives him that pointed stare his ears flatten against his head and he feels the need to momentarily avert his gaze. He clears his throat as subtly as he can manage before he returns his gaze to Wade. ]
I've seen monsters. Both of man and demon. And you are neither.
[ It's spoken more in a factual tone than anything, but it's a point that he stresses.]
The only thing that separates man from monster are the choices we make.
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When I was a child it certainly seemed that way. Before I knew better. It's in the past, at any rate. [ Something catches his attention, though. ] Wait a minute...when did I tell you he was my master?
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Of course it hurts.
It explains a lot, really-- his sensitivity to touch, his general sour mood, how he always seems to carry himself gingerly as if nursing bruises on his body. Like the itching burning feeling that Wade had long since gotten used to, the feeling of cancer constantly taking rapacious bites out of his skin, only to have it replenished. Wade glances up to meet Fenris's eyes now, his mouth quirking in an embarrassed smile.]
Might not've been you then. You remember when things were crazy and we had doubles of ourselves wandering around? I met another you. Someone who didn't know me. He was looking for Danarius. Seemed in a hurry to get back to him, actually.
[There are questions in Wade's eyes now, questions he's a little afraid to ask.]
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[ He seems to almost expect this — somehow, he feels as if there wouldn't be very many versions of himself that escaped the clutches of Tevinter and its magisters. Perhaps that's bleak, but he feels as if his situation was one in a million. At least, as far as multidimensional versions of himself goes...or whatever.]
As I said, there was a time where I did not know better. Slaves don't think of freedom. Only of their master's desires. More often than not...they can't comprehend anything else. [ He shakes his head, words bitter as he drops his spoon into the container. ] Sometimes when we released them...we knew they would go back. To their masters. There was a time when I would do the same.
[ He sighs, glancing up at Wade. ]
It's a good thing Danarius wasn't around. He likely would have ordered your death, and that version of myself would have complied without hesitation. I was little more than a weapon to him.
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He finds himself unable to hold eye contact for long, looking down at the unopened container of ice cream still clenched in his hands.]
How long? [His voice is low; hoarse.] How long was he your... your master?
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It's...strange, to say the least. ]
Hard to say, exactly. Since I was a child...I believe he was my mother's master first, and by extension mine. It wasn't until I got older when I began to directly serve him.
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Wade struggles to shape his expression into something more neutral.]
Se-- [His voice breaks, and he clears his throat with a chagrined shake of his head.] Sorry. Serve him in what way, exactly? I mean-- if you're okay with gettin' into that.
[He has a vague sense of dread of what that could entail. It's hard not to jump to that conclusion, considering the subject matter.]
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However he desired. I was his.
[ It's probably the best he can do to answer the question without getting into all the unpleasant details. To spare Wade knowing the nitty-gritty of what he had endured — breaking down decades of grim details into just six words. ]
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...Jesus. [The word is a whisper, and he can't think of anything else to say. He doesn't think there's anything else that can be said.]
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His brows crease in concern. ]
Wade...[ With the way the other can't even look at him, he wonders... ] Are you...alright?
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What delicious irony. Fenris had been through hell, had been through one of the worst scenarios Wade could imagine, and he's asking Wade if he's all right? It's almost more than he can bear.
After a few excruciating minutes, Wade's laughter finally tapers off into scattered chuckles before stopping completely. He sighs, righting himself and wiping his eyes before regarding Fenris with an apologetic smile.]
Sorry. Wasn't laughin' at you, honest. It's just... fuck.
[He shakes his head, that smile turning into something rueful and sardonic.]
All I can say is... I take back everything I may have said about you bein' cranky and broody. 'Cause you're doin' fucking fantastic, all things considered.
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When Wade finally stops and apologizes, he doesn't need to say much to convince Fenris.
He doesn't quite know how to react to what he's being told. Again. His ears slope back a bit, brows creasing further as his mouth opens and closes for lack of any real response.
No one has ever told him he was handling things well. And he never quite thought he was either. Maybe now, finally settling on just the right amount of anger and resentment to focus on while continuing on with his life. But even still, no one has ever expressed this about the way he handled his trauma. ]
I...[ He clears his throat. ] It has been quite some time since I've spoken about this at length. Not since...Hawke.
Thank you.
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He thinks about how he'd watched Fenris die, watched him plead for the man who enslaved him like a lost and frightened child as his blood pooled in the streets and the life faded from his eyes.
Wade's mouth quirks in an awkward attempt at a disarming smile, and he rolls his shoulders in a shrug he hopes passes as nonchalant.]
Don't really know what I need to be thanked for. I'm just glad you're still here. A-away from whatsisface, I mean.
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Considering I never properly thanked you for...rescuing me...I would say it is owed to you.
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It's been quite some time since I've spoken about this at length. Not since... Hawke.
The enormity of that statement makes it difficult to think clearly. How long had Fenris carried this inside of him, without anyone knowing? How many people had simply assumed he was one of those dark and broody edgelord types without really understanding what he had been through?
Wade forces out a chuckle, less out of genuine mirth and more out of a complete lack of knowledge of how else to react.]
I mean... figured I owe you for the Skee-Ball game, so that puts us about even. Besides, I wasn't about to watch you die a second time.
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But instead of Wade watching Fenris die again, Fenris almost watched Wade die instead. His lips curl down into a frown at the thought, brows furrowed and gaze sharp. He pushes himself off the desk and lowers himself onto the other side of the mattress, crossing his legs.
He doesn't speak straight away. ]
I would prefer not to watch you die either.
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He finds himself unable to meet Fenris's eyes again.]
Yeah, I... um. [An awkward clearing of his throat.] I've been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. That day, I mean. The day I almost... y'know. Died.
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[ Fenris admits easily, glancing over at Wade, immediately noticing how he's avoiding eye contact again. He doesn't say anything more, for now, first waiting to see what Wade wanted to say first before he questions him. Because he has questions, much like Wade had for Fenris.
There's one thing he is particularly avoiding discussing, naturally. ]
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[An awkward huff of laughter. The atmosphere seems to have changed once again, and Wade finds himself wishing for that earlier levity, of some opportunity to crack a joke or make a lighthearted comment so that he could once again be in control of the conversation.]
You can ask me your questions first, if you want. Since you pretty much did all the talking so far.
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What made him that way?
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A whole lot, really. Spite. Loneliness. Desperation. The exhaustion brought on by living too long. Basically take all the issues I have, dial 'em up to eleven, toss in a nonexistent moral compass... mix and serve scalding.
He-- the real other me, I mean-- killed pretty much everyone in his own universe. I'm talkin' men, women, children... even started takin' out people from other universes, too. Including other versions of me-- the ones he didn't recruit, anyway. Some of 'em were even my teammates, which made it even more personal.
[He scowls.] Hit the hardest when they killed the dog. I liked that dog.
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What strikes Fenris is the fact that he hadn’t had to deal with this alternative self. He lived in another reality and only recently merged with his own, and he was fortunate enough not to encounter him. Meanwhile, Wade has apparently dealt with his morally defunct counterpart before now. It takes a lot to shock Fenris — or at the very least, shock him enough that it’s visible on his face and heard in his tone, yet here he is. ]
He was so filled with spite and rage that he traversed worlds to get to you?
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Apparently even a magically-tortured former slave could still find it in himself to be shocked at the evils of the world. Wade's not entirely sure that's a good thing.
He shakes his head at Fenris's question.]
Not at me, no. I've had so many people come after me for some slight or another that I'm pretty much inured to it at this point. But this was different. He didn't just want to kill me, he wanted to kill everyone. Destroyed a ton of worlds before he even got to mine, even worlds that existed for way longer than mine did. Would've eventually come after your world too, if we hadn't stopped him.
He... I guess he thought it was the only way we could be free. All of us. Some kinda, I dunno-- multiverse-wide murder-suicide pact, or something.
You get what I'm saying? If this was out of any sort of revenge, it was for being born.
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And yet, he understood.
He offers a solemn nod of his head, gaze shifting to a spot on the floor. ]
I get it. All too well. [ He doesn't have a problem admitting that. ] He was a monster. But monsters are created.
[ Literally and figuratively. ]
There is nothing that I could say that wouldn't sound hollow. For what it's worth, I am sorry.
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[He sighs, busying himself with digging around in his ice cream.] That's the worst part about it, I think. That I got him. I understood where he was comin' from. Guy might've been a genocidal psychopath, but... at his basic elements he was me, y'know? Me taken to a huge extreme, maybe, but me nonetheless. Wanting the pain to end. Living too long. Being just so fucking exhausted with all the bullshit and the suffering that life throws at you every day. Not all that surprising that I'd feel... I dunno. A sense of kinship with a guy like that, I guess.
...Until he started goin' after the people I cared about.
[The pointed look Wade now gives to Fenris should speak volumes of what he's too insecure to say aloud.]
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I've seen monsters. Both of man and demon. And you are neither.
[ It's spoken more in a factual tone than anything, but it's a point that he stresses.]
The only thing that separates man from monster are the choices we make.
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