When he stood, when he was out of reach, Angela's stomach turned. There were times when Nathan truly was like his father, and it wasn't hard to tell, much like it had been easy with Arthur, that what she had set had pushed him rather close to rage. Tightening in on herself briefly, Angela's eyes lingered on the floor when he asked his question, replying carefully, "I have nearly forty years of experience with it, Nathan. My control is rather refined," She said, standing slowly and crossing back over to the bed and laying down, staring at the wall across from her bed.
What was the point of this conversation? She had hoped that it would be different, but clearly, it was just going to end like all of the others. She didn't want to be yelled at again. She wasn't in the mood right now to give as good as she got. So much honesty was draining when you weren't used to it, and right now, the thought that it was going to all be for nothing was enough to almost push her to tears.
"It is exact as it is going to get," Angela said. "But these powers aren't perfect. There's room for error in all of them."