[He's playing with a kitchen knife. It might be familiar -- it's the same one he used to murder someone onscreen way back when, after all. He sits for a moment, thinking of exactly what he wants to say.]Every batch of new arrivals, and it's the same thing. He's never one of them
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[He really can't help it that his voice cracks. He's doing his best to hold it together, but he's trembling despite the spell, and if he weren't entirely held still he'd be struggling something fierce. His head is filled with the image of a sadistic smile, the smell of blood, and the memory of how it felt to be torn apart and broken -- and he really can't handle it.]
I don't care about your pride. Just stop it!
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Maker, please, I didn't--
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You are a foul human being. [It's just spiteful lashing out -- he knows perfectly well that Anders can't have known how badly such a harmless bit of magic would effect him -- but he throws every bit of disdainful malice into it that he can.]
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[He has to fight the urge to try and help. The last thing Mao is going to want is to have him getting any closer, he imagines.]
I'm sorry, I had no right to do that to you. You have every reason to hate me for it.
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[He scowls, but he's getting it together, and pushing himself back to his feet.]
Is it clearer to you why I don't trust anyone now? There's always the chance they'll be like you, or worse. You're a self-righteous idiot, but what if you weren't just that? I don't want you or anyone else near me.
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I understand. I won't try and stop you from leaving, or doing anything else.
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Try to think before you act from now on.
[And with that he's going to stalk off just slow enough not to be obviously escaping.]
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