Dietre's hands fell away from his work and dropped to his sides. Francis' words hit a little too close to home, leaving the boy wounded. It was clear Glory meant a lot to him for him to be getting upset, he hadn't shown half as much emotion over his parents, save for the night the monstrous version of his mother appeared.He bit his lip for a moment before recommencing his half hearted attempts to defend himself. "But I didn't mean it."
His expression hardened suddenly. Something had begun to change in him since the night he killed his parents. He was no longer quite so accepting of being put down. He couldn't help but be reminded of his father whenever Mr. Drake said something that made him feel like he was defective. He could say those kinds of things about himself, he thought them all the time, but he starting to feel like he didn't want to hear it from anyone else. "I had told her I couldn't control it, not like the animals."
Dietre stood a little straighter, lifting his chin again in that cool, haughty way that somehow reflected his father. Strange, given how the boy hated the man, and the fact they hadn't even been related. Dietre had been adopted, though of course he didn't know.
He lifted a hand, and a moment later, a small black bird appeared, perched on his finger. It ruffled it's feathers and flicked it's tail before taking flight. It vanished before it reached the ceiling, disintegrating into a wisp.