“Does it bother you?” I ask. Her brows furrow in confusion. “I’m a murderer, angel. I killed for money, and I liked it.” “It should. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that it doesn’t make me a bad person because I don’t care. I’m sure the people you killed deserved it. Does that make it right? No. But it doesn’t make you a bad person, either. I see too much good in you for that. I should be appalled by what I know about you guys,” she shrugs, “but I’m not. I don’t want to change you guys because you never asked me to change for you.”
