He gives her a long look, considering. "I'm not really used to privacy," he explains. "I have two trackers in me that let my bosses know where I am at all times. I have a file on me that has everything I've ever done. Not the Admiral's file, but a real file, back home. But I don't like strangers knowing things about me that would make them pity me. Or sympathize with me. That kind of dirty laundry. So yeah, the shit I said? That's dirty laundry. I'll tell people almost whatever they want to know."
"I don't pity you," she says - quickly, easily, truthfully. "But I do sympathize, and even empathize a little bit. Not pity, though; I hate that shit, too."
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He shrugs. "Not like I could stop you anyway."
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She mirrors his shrug, leaning back against the hard wall and closing her eyes.
"If you didn't wanna hear it, I'd respect that."
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She opens one eye, and her lips turn up in a tiny ghost of a smile.
"And if I do start pitying you, you can punch me in the face."
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"Yeah. That will do a lot for my image around here. But I'll keep that in mind."