"Owen Harper, irrational? I'd never have guessed," she said, a teasing tone entering her voice briefly.
She looked at her hands again, at the hand that had worn the glove so many, many times. Brought people back, so very briefly, from that terrible darkness.
And she still wanted to. Even knowing what was there, she wanted to be able to bring people back. She wanted that power. She wanted to show them all that they'd been wrong about her.
"I'm sick, Owen," she whispered, curling her hands into fists. "I've been sick for so long, so long. Seeing everything that's out there, all the horrible things that come to Earth like it's a -- a party for all the terrible creatures in the universe -- we never see the beauty, Owen, the beautiful things out there never come here, because we're so angry, so full of hate and deceit, how could they? How could anything beautiful want to come to a planet that's so filthy?"