He turned back to her. “You don’t understand—” She cut him off. “Oh, I do, sir. My dad was a hunter. He hunted because he needed to feel power over other creatures. But once you took away his weapons, he was a weak, bitter man.” “Don’t seem like any way to talk about your father.” “He wasn’t much of a father, or a man.” “He still alive?” “No. He killed himself when I was sixteen. Only time he shot anyone who deserved it.”
Ouch!
