[she surprises herself by laughing. She can't help it. She lifts a hand to cover her face, but even as she stops laughing, her shoulders start shaking - like she's trying to hold the urge to cry back, but failing miserably. It's made clear how hard she's failing when she starts talking]

My kind has been hated, hunted, and demonized for as long as I can remember. I worked outside of it for most of my adult life. That is nothing new to me. In my world, I am a criminal, regardless of my crime, because I exist. That is what "Tempest" is, you know - a criminal hiding another criminal.

But no, you are not close. If anyone is breaking away, it is those I thought were friends. Why wouldn't they? I betrayed them, I am a traitor, I am whatever else I have been called since I made my participation known—but even if—even if they feel that way, I have not changed how I feel about this. Even if I lose everything again.