“I won’t allow it,” he said suddenly, pushing off from the wall. “Not anymore-”

He paced a sharp line across the floor, each turn more agitated than the last.

The movement was familiar - that same restless circuit she knew her own feet made when thoughts wouldn’t settle. She pressed harder against the wall.

“These people, they just…” His hand cut through the air, voice rising. “Making decisions about who… who deserves…” The words came faster now, sharper. “…they just sat there and… like it was nothing to them… just checking boxes while people’s lives…”

“Entire people were just another file to them, just another…” His fist clenched at his side, knuckles white, the tendons in his neck standing out like cords.

His eyes flashed to hers, burning with an intensity that made her step back, her shoulder blades meeting the wall.

“They just decided. Just like that. Who was worth saving.” His voice went quiet, deadly calm. “Who could still contribute-”

He stopped abruptly, blinking as if surprised by his own words. But when his gaze settled again, something had crystallized there - not softer, just… contained. Waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, running a hand through his hair. The gesture seemed practiced, civilized, but that thing in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come out here this late, getting you involved in all this…” His eyes met hers again, and something in them made her look away, studying the ceiling tiles instead. “But… thank you. Really.”