Like us? [Oh no. Oh no no no, you don't get to dictate where he sits on the scale of morality here, Angel.] News flash, sweetheart: I'm not like you.
[And neither is Rogers, but she knew that already, didn't she? So desperate to get her hands on something better, like it'll somehow pick her up out of the dirt where she belongs.
He's seen her nightmares. Her dreams. The thin, thin line that runs between the two.] I make choices that save lives.
[When he reaches out, it's not to take hold of her, but the console behind her instead: pinning her back with the span of his body to keep her from turning and stopping his outstretched hand as it closes around the command switch, all cold determination.]
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[And neither is Rogers, but she knew that already, didn't she? So desperate to get her hands on something better, like it'll somehow pick her up out of the dirt where she belongs.
He's seen her nightmares. Her dreams. The thin, thin line that runs between the two.] I make choices that save lives.
[When he reaches out, it's not to take hold of her, but the console behind her instead: pinning her back with the span of his body to keep her from turning and stopping his outstretched hand as it closes around the command switch, all cold determination.]
Like this one.