"To be honest," another sigh, "I don't. I don't feel bad or disgusted or ashamed. I don't really even feel relieved, though I'm glad to have one less ...hing to worry about. I just keep wondering where my conscience is. My morals. Am I just in shock or do I not have any?"He sat forward, his muscled forearms resting on his knees and his eyes on his work-roughened hands. "You've spent too much time among humans," he told me. "I have no doubt that you have morals and a conscience, but you are not. Ones that are there to protect people and help them feel safe,” I counter and she’s picking up on what I’m doing.“You can’t throw a generalization at me with this. Hurting Meredith doesn’t do anything for you personally,” She says and I again counter.“No but professionally it does plenty, it sets a standard. You cross the bad man with a code that you agreed to and he will take a bit from you that you can never get back. Granted I’m being more than fucking merciful by just telling her husband. He fell asleep almost instantly, and slept really late Sunday morning, as he usually does on weekends, to the smell of something tasty wafting through the air conditioning vent in his ceiling."Morning, Guy!" she greeted him cheerfully as he entered the kitchen."Morning, Wendy," he answered back."I found some batter and I'm making pancakes from scratch!" Yeah?" Guy said with a yawn."Yeah! Have a seat at the table and let me take care of everything!"After breakfast, Wendy said, "Why don't we go. Absurdly, Julia felt a glow of embarrassed colour come to her cheeks. How conscious she was of the unusual; of the tiny knickers clinging to her! Yet how, after all she had gone through, could she possibly be embarrassed by their mention? Yet, somehow, she was!Behind Quentin, she could see Havers grinning lecherously and the sensation of embarrassment increased.“B-Blue . . . p-pale blue . . . M-Master . . .” she answered. But, seeing Quentin frown and make a note in his book, quickly.
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