“Is that supposed to be funny?” Jade couldn’t tell if he had a sense of humour—but if he did, and that was his attempt, it was a sorry sort that didn’t hold up. If anything, it just made him come off as an even more insensitive prick. “Better than not being fed at all,” she retorted. The Maine facility hadn’t let them starve, but there had certainly been hungrier nights. Fortunately for Jade, going a few days without a real meal wasn’t exactly new.
“There’s no proof?” She couldn’t help but laugh at that. Okay, so maybe he was a little funny, even if unintentionally so. “Oh, boy. If you don’t think that the SEA goes through and a whole chunk of you don’t get nailed to the wall for crimes against humanity, you’re—,” she shook her head and then bowed it. Why did she even bother? She had spent so long talking to people just like him (alright, perhaps not just like him), trying to persuade them to alter or at least soften their perspectives, and it had always been like talking to a wall. With the Wraiths, it was even worse than having her speech fall on deaf ears. “You know what? Nevermind.”
Jade had her hands on her hips when he began explaining just how well he’d gotten off in life after he began outing Supers to the government. The up-and-down look he gave her caused her to glower, but she managed to keep quiet by biting the inside of her cheek.
She continued to stare him directly in the eye after he’d finished without saying a single word. The slew of angry, spiteful words that wanted to come out wouldn’t be helpful—if anything, they’d make her first day in Limbo an exceedingly awful one—but he deserved them all. All the rage, the anguish—everything that she had to unleash on him.
The silence stretched on and Jade never once broke eye contact. “You’d think with a bonus like that you’d get something a little better than BMW. How is possible that you’re this much of a cliché, Frost?”