[Henry keeps his own anger burning bright. He has a target in which he could easily destroy ten times over before remaking it completely: his own world. But maybe that's yet one more difference between them. He never grew tired, he never resigned himself to his fate, even when he had been trapped for seven years in that raw, hellish dimension. He would find a way back home and to make so many suffer, because it was only ever deserved -- the bad hand he was dealt so many times over in life had to mean something, in the end.
And it's not a fair parallel to draw when Amelia's ire was focused towards a man--a thing--in which she couldn't destroy. But the concept is just so alien to Henry. What is dealing with things in a healthy way? Never heard of her.
He doesn't know what to say to all of it. Not just yet. So he doesn't, rising to his feet instead.]
...All right. One more memory. What do you want to show me?
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And it's not a fair parallel to draw when Amelia's ire was focused towards a man--a thing--in which she couldn't destroy. But the concept is just so alien to Henry. What is dealing with things in a healthy way? Never heard of her.
He doesn't know what to say to all of it. Not just yet. So he doesn't, rising to his feet instead.]
...All right. One more memory. What do you want to show me?