Viola hadn't anticipated the sting sorrow when Courtenay called them good people. She was doing her best, certainly, but she didn't feel like someone good. Increasingly, she wasn't sure if an objective measure of good even existed. These were thoughts that she thought she could sweep from her mind like clouds, but then Courtenay leaned into the idea of goodness, asking if he, himself, was good.
There was a heavy pause, one in which Viola looked at him thoughtfully. She'd sneered at him at Carnivale that he hadn't changed, which was why, she imagined, he was asking her. He wanted absolution, or at least pardon, and Viola genuinely wasn't sure if she of all people was in any position to offer either.
"It seems to me," Viola said slowly, "that your intentions have changed. Barring that little stint on Ellevra, you seem to want to use your gifts, regenerative and otherwise, in service of others. That seems to me to be a good intention, certainly a better one than when we were children. But I'm not sure I'm in any position to determine what's good and bad, considering the lengths I'll go to to protect my secrets."