"You didn't want anyone to get hurt." He won't bother trifling with the same technicalities she does. It's an obvious stalling tactic, at best. He forms a blade with two of his fingers, jamming them down onto the top of the podium.

"Eventually, it'll come down to making a choice." And she knows it, assuming it hasn't already. "You'll find your hallowed truth, or you'll watch everything you love die."

For the briefest moment, his lip curls with something like scorn.

"And you'll pick the story. Every time."