The itch in her shoulder subsided, replaced by a dull throbbing sensation.
Olivia chuckled to herself as Damien explained his actions to her.
"So, you're telling me," she replied with a slight smirk on her face, "that seeing a damsel in distress made you a slightly better person?"
The throbbing grew more intense, and the mercenary reached up with her left hand to gently massage the old injury. She remembered the fear and desperation she had felt that day, sprawled over the deck, blood gushing from the fresh bullet wound. Like a cornered animal, she had looked for a way out, any way out, only to end up at the Xeno's literal doorstep. She would be forever grateful for what the man had done for her.
But even a life debt would never bring her to forgive him for all the things she would later learn he had done and would continue to do. Whether their meeting was ordained by some kind of fate or not.
Despite being amused by her question and finding the idea preposterous himself, Morreti would nod sagely and reflect inwards while answering her. "It was the first time I felt something and chose to kill because of it, rather than killing to feel something." After stating this he just shook his head and spoke further, even taking a glance at who else was in the bar with them at one point. "Wouldn't say it made me any better or worse as a person, just that I'm different now because of it." Saying this betrayed the fact that his estimation of himself and the actions he took were no better than those Olivia held of him.
For a few minutes, Olivia sat in silence, continuing to rub her shoulder, rolling it in its joint as the throbbing sensation gradually subsided. Her glass was empty, only a thin layer of half-dissolved rock coating its bottom. She felt the sudden urge to leave, perhaps feeling that she had spent too much time too close to the Xeno commander. It was clear that there was a stormy ocean of thoughts sloshing around the man's mind, thoughts that involved her in ways she was less than pleased with. As much as she enjoyed the idea of being the source of someone's moral awakening in a poetic sense, Olivia knew that she wasn't the right person to enable or encourage such a change.
Releasing her shoulder, she gestured at the barman and reached into her flightsuit's pockets, drawing out and handing over a credit chit.
"I'm glad you're changing," the mercenary finally spoke, her voice an indiscernible cocktail of sincerity and sarcasm. She turned towards Damien and looked the man once over, as though inspecting his appearance for any transformations to match those of his mind. "I have places to be," she lied and sprung up from her stool, turning towards the bar's exit. "Like I said, I won't be in Liberty for a while. So if you have any further revelations," she glanced again at the Xeno, "you'll have to find someone else to share them with."
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