Mary laughed: because at least when Judas was angry it was tolerable, it was stable ground, because she knew that it pissed Judas off when she laughed at him. So let him drag her along in his wake, even though earlier in that night she had almost asked can we just be kind to each other tonight?
But Mary and Judas were no good at kind.
They'd been good at kind once, hadn't they? At the side of their dearest love, dearest friend, dearest saviour? When they'd been beside him, they had been kind people, good people. Two thousand years of bullshit had burned those people away and left these rotten shells instead.
"You'd know," she smiled poisonously, spinning in the hallway, turning on him with a burning eyes. "You're quite the procurer of cheap whores, aren't you?"