[ Ah. Midnight nods, then adds another sixth. Fair enough. He fills the rest with hot water, then, pulling a cinnamon stick from a nearby jar, he stirs the whole thing and slides it to her. ]

I believe most of my confusion comes from a lack of understanding of how your world works. I don't live in a world where the dead come back to life, where light and compassion are one and the same. I simply don't understand how these things are possible, even if I fully believe that they are.

[ Midnght pauses. He grabs a stool on his side of the bar, then his coat, throws it over his shoulders. He's pretty sure the paint on his back is mostly dry by now. ]

I understand the parts that are important, I think. You were created for a purpose, cast aside as an afterthought. You did not agree with your fate. You tried for better. Your heart failed you at a moment of prescience. There was a light, and you took it for yourself at the price of the lives of those you once protected.

[ ... Midnight leans on the bar counter and looks her in the eye. ]

Is that the gist of it? Did I leave anything out?