A film star? The thought made her chuckle very lightly. “Do I look like one of those?” she asked while she returned to lounge on the cushioned, leather seat. “I was considering the modification of this vehicle. However, there I don’t know who would be able to, and, who I could trust with my well-being,” she explained, folding her arms with a serious expression. She wasn’t a fool who would just give the benefit of doubt to about anybody who would solicitously volunteer their services. Perhaps Walter’s betrayal had stung her more than she knew that her paranoia had increased to this level.
Walter whom she had loved as a second father, selling his soul to their enemy to defeat her faithful servant? That was far too excruciating to learn to trust so easily again.
“I am more, believe me,” she said, crossing her arms. “If my servants were here with me, they would have been sorry as well.” Her statement was cold and simple. It was not a threat but an honest promise. One Forest of the Impaled in Rio de Janeiro, another in London, did these higher ups underestimate the reach of her fanatic fealty to her country?
“Oh? I see. I think I understand what you say,” the knight mused. Magneto, Cronqvist, that buffon who ordered people to kneel before him. “This is a veritable circus without a clear order or a true ringleader. Routine could be dull for some, but it’s certainly needed to keep a shred of sanity. How do they expect to win a war when nobody knows which battle they are fighting for? It’s absurd.”