[He glances away, very slightly, and there's a finely drawn discomfort on his face. He doesn't like hearing her talk like this. He doesn't like the knowledge of who she used to be. He doesn't like hearing about not having that choice. And he especially doesn't like it when she's drunk, when she can't control her tongue. It makes him feel...unfair.

And yet he remembers that as well. That piece of information just goes into his mental file on her. That and the earlier talk of being terminated twist together squeamishly into a different perspective altogether.]

I wasn't saying that because I wanted to complain. I merely...I am pointing out that I stayed on. I didn't quit. If I'd had no faith in you, in your competence, then I'd have simply given up.