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She’s close enough to touch, but if she thinks I’m like Eric, that will never happen.
Of course she thinks I’m like Eric. I just threw knives at her head. I screwed it all up.
“You know, I’m getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!” I say.
“Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you’re sadistic, just like he is?”
The accusation makes me feel cold. She thinks I’m like Eric? She thinks I want to impress him?
“I am not sadistic.” I lean closer to her and suddenly I feel nervous, like something is prickling in my chest.
– Lehet, hogy igazad van – mondom halkan.
– Elismered? – kérdezi, és meglepődést színlelve eltátja a száját. – Úgy tűnik, ez a szérum végső soron jót is tett neked…
Meglököm, amilyen erősen csak tudom.
– Szívd vissza! Ezt most rögtön szívd vissza!
– Jól van, jól van. – Tobias felemeli a kezét. – Éppen csak… tudod, én sem vagyok valami kedves. Pontosan ezért szeretlek annyira…
– Kifelé! – kiáltom az ajtóra mutatva.
Tobias magában nevetgél, arcon csókol, és távozik a helyiségből.
Why do you want my help?” I say, suddenly suspicious. “Because you know I’m a Stiff and we’re supposed to help people?”
“What? No, of course not,” she says. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I want your help because you’re the best in your group, obviously.”
I laugh. “No, I’m not.”
“You and Eric were the only undefeated ones and you just beat him, so yeah, you are. Listen, if you don’t want to help me, all you have to do is—”
“I’ll help,” I say. “I just don’t really know how."
“You know, maybe I would learn my lesson if you actually hit me,” she says, straightening. Her skin is flushed from exertion, and sweat shines along her hairline. Her eyes are bright and critical. It occurs to me, for the first time, that she’s pretty. Not in the way I usually think of—she’s not soft, delicate—but in a way that’s strong, capable.
I say, “I would really rather not.”
“What you think is some kind of lingering Abnegation chivalry is really kind of insulting,” she says. “I can take care of myself. I can take a little pain.”
“It’s not that,” I say. “It’s not because you’re a girl. I just . . . I’m not really into violence for no reason.”
“Some kind of Stiff thing, huh?” she says.
“Not really. Stiffs aren’t into violence, period. Put a Stiff in Dauntless and they just let themselves get punched a lot,” I say, letting myself smile a little. I’m not used to using Dauntless slang, but it feels good to claim it as my own, to let myself relax into their rhythms of speech. “It just doesn’t feel like a game to me, that’s all.”