[Phone]
[Veidt sounds tired, bitter.]
Oh, what fun this little game might have been a few months ago.
If I hadn't already spilled my own beans about my activities back home in an attempt at keeping the lot of you from stooping to my wretched level, I'm sure the town would be making me talk all about that right now.
So, what else can I possibly regale
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Your pity? I don't want your Gottverdammt pity-
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[A beat.]
Seriously, though, you beatin' yourself up for killin' your father? From'a shit you said he did, I wouldn't blame ya at all. There's no other way you coulda stopped 'em otherwise, yeah?
... Though I'm prolly underestimatin' how much it hurts to've killed your own dad.
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[dull, compelled voice]
Fifteen million people are dead back home because of me.
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What?! Why?!
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M-Mr. Veidt, you should... please just put the phone down.
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[pause]
I'm sorry, that was... unkind of me. Miserable as I am, I forget sometimes that others suffer more.
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I'm pretty sure nobody's going to judge you too hard for killing him, sir.
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