There is nothing to say. [ And yet. ] When my father was thirty-three I had not even met him. He may have been a saint for all I know. What I do know is by forty he was the driving force behind mutant supremacist terrorism, and he had no compunction about making weapons out of two sixteen-year-old orphans who felt they owed him their lives.

[ ...So maybe he did need to get that out, yes. (Shut up.) ]

I do not doubt that you are not that man yet, but I fail to see why I should suddenly get my hopes up over the off chance you won't become him.