Yeah. Noticing that your choices seem to matter a whole lot more than mine, asshole. Just like everyone else's, these days.

[He's got your fucking number, now, or he's decided that he has.]

But hey. At least I knew that already.

Thanks for proving me right.

[Which means he doesn't have to feel bad when he spits at her face, the last real capacity for spite that he has. His sanity is a sponge sucking away every capacity for any other emotion he has.]