One day Robin would ask himself how his shock had turned so easily to rage; why his first reaction was not disbelief at this betrayal but black, consuming hatred. And the answer would elude and disturb him, for it tiptoed around a complicated tangle of love and jealousy that ensnared them all, for which they had no name or explanation, a truth they’d only been starting to wake up to and now, after this, would never acknowledge.
Letty's sympathy only goes as far as the comfort with her race lets her. Once it starts to affect her, her identity becomes more important than her morals. Can struggle truly not be understood without experience?
