[She fires back at him as the fire within himself flickers and dims. His cheek puffs out as he listens to her berate him, and rightfully so. She is competent in ways he will never be, but that doesn't change the fact that she is a child.
Asher is guilty of this everywhere, even back home. Such is the nature of the rich white man, to just assume that everyone has had the things he always took for granted, like actually being protected by the law. He makes this mistake despite knowing that even in modern Philadelphia, the same thing happens every day.
David Allen had been in prison for 21 years for a crime he had never committed, and if Asher had just taken the easy way out and never challenged his father, that man would've died for no good reason. Just like him, Sieglinde was ostracized and forgotten about.
He should know better, and so he does the one thing he constantly finds himself doing.]
I'm sorry.
[He apologizes.
At the same time, the world he comes from is all he has ever known. It is gilded and beautiful, a life of luxury vehicles and fancy wine glasses, but the laughter in those houses has never felt real. Everything about that place is cold, lonely.
Asher doesn't talk about it, though. It's no excuse for the way he just behaved.]
I believe you.
[The words are simple and earnest as he looks at her from the cot of his own prison cell, leaning against the wall with tired eyes. His smile is bitter, resentful, though all of that negativity is directed mainly at himself. If what she says is true, Sieglinde deserves not only his sympathy but also his utmost respect.
He can barely stand under a fraction of that kind of pressure, and yet here she is, a living symbol of what it means to be strong in a tiny little body.]
i'm laughing he's so simple let me die
Asher is guilty of this everywhere, even back home. Such is the nature of the rich white man, to just assume that everyone has had the things he always took for granted, like actually being protected by the law. He makes this mistake despite knowing that even in modern Philadelphia, the same thing happens every day.
David Allen had been in prison for 21 years for a crime he had never committed, and if Asher had just taken the easy way out and never challenged his father, that man would've died for no good reason. Just like him, Sieglinde was ostracized and forgotten about.
He should know better, and so he does the one thing he constantly finds himself doing.]
I'm sorry.
[He apologizes.
At the same time, the world he comes from is all he has ever known. It is gilded and beautiful, a life of luxury vehicles and fancy wine glasses, but the laughter in those houses has never felt real. Everything about that place is cold, lonely.
Asher doesn't talk about it, though. It's no excuse for the way he just behaved.]
I believe you.
[The words are simple and earnest as he looks at her from the cot of his own prison cell, leaning against the wall with tired eyes. His smile is bitter, resentful, though all of that negativity is directed mainly at himself. If what she says is true, Sieglinde deserves not only his sympathy but also his utmost respect.
He can barely stand under a fraction of that kind of pressure, and yet here she is, a living symbol of what it means to be strong in a tiny little body.]
I just hate when people lie to me.