“Tear, how many of my people have been killed on bright days while Wiley refused to open their doors?” “Two thousand four hundred and six,” Tear says. “Oh, now, Mr. Tear, that’s not fair. Tell me just how many it’s been during the mayor’s reign.” “Seventy.” “Well, there you have it. I’ll let sixty-five more of you die, and then save the seventy-first. And the scales will be even.”
