She had no interest in arguing the point. Weighing the value of a life down here was a waste of time. Most, if not all, of the people in the subway were drug addicts and drug addicts were nothing but trash in her eyes. She was doing this place a favor wiping out a couple of them. Call her a cleaner, free of charge.
Sheathing her dagger back into its hilt, Arden watched the man move closer. He kept doing that – approaching, shortening the distance between them. She didn’t like it, but she showed no indication of it. “Sì,” she agreed noncommittedly, “you are right.”
He was talkative for somebody who’d wanted her to quiet down only a few minutes ago. Now, he was telling her about school and the Olympics, but she would let him talk if that was what he wanted. She, on the other hand, was less willing to share. She saw no reason to. There was not much to tell.
She never went to school. Not a normal one; not a prestigious one. She was homeschooled. Everything she’d ever learned was inside the very villa she grew up in. The only other child around was Nico. Every day she was constrained to a very tight schedule filled with lessons upon lessons – some useful; some not so much. She remembered envying children who were able to attend school, able to leave the house. But that was a long time ago.
“If we are done here,” she regarded him with an insincere smile, “I will go now.” She gestured dismissively at where he had hidden himself before. “You can return to your siesta and you will no longer hear from me.” She had more important business to attend to like finding a nest for her and her Famiglia.
Plus, he was getting too close and she didn't like it.