[ jesse's losing it, and andyr thinks he probably needed to. better this than falling all over the city, trying to drown it all out. then again, andyr's philosophy of self therapy has always been to purge in the most violent means possible. as such, it's difficult for him to get to what he decides to respond with, not because it's hard to hear this. just because of what jesse's disgust with himself says about what he'll likely see in andyr. always the selfish one. ]

I can't count the number of people I've killed that never did anything.

[ not the guards or the lab techs. the patrons, reporters, protesters. the KN2s that were too scared to move when Andyr came down a hall soaked in blood, rage in his eyes, blinding. the ones that didn't move fast enough, or thought they were protecting peace by trying to stop him. he'd told himself, a long time ago, that all he is, now, is this instrument for violence and vengeance, that the moral quandary of who should die and who shouldn't isn't his problem. he's exists to show the world what they'd done, and that alone. andyr still believes that. ]

Not 'cause I didn't have a choice, not 'cause it was them or me. [ there were those too - the ones shoved in the arenas with him. just test subjects to see how their iteration held up to the template. ] Just 'cause they were too stupid, or too brave, to get out of the way.

[ a beat, his hands drawing back from jesse's face, and a blankness in his eyes. something second nature to him. something he'd been hoping they'd never see, here. ]

Still want me here?

[ an honest question, because this seems to matter a lot more to Jesse than it does to him. If he wants him to fuck off, he'll go, no questions asked. but the point of all this being - when he says it doesn't matter to him, he means it doesn't matter to him. ]