River arched an eyebrow. This woman didn't seem like she was a genius. She was sitting in the park with a bandage on her head, throwing pastry at squirrels. But, then again, River didn't think she would seem like one, either. People like Hannibal were different. You could see it right away.
Very disturbing and slightly annoying was mild, River thought. At least for her own condition. Maybe it was easier to be shot in the head than to have your amygdala stripped. River had never been shot in the head. She couldn't compare it.
She shuffled her feet.
How else am I supposed to be, right?
"You just don't break. That's how you're supposed to be," she said. "You aren't the thing that was done to you. You're you. The rest you just have to live with."
She remembered raging when she discovered the Firefly series. She'd destroyed things because of Simon, because of what he'd been put through. She'd certainly mourned herself along the way, too, but what had happened to her also changed her in positive ways.
She could fight anyone. She could destroy what needed to be destroyed.