[She recoils at the sudden concern-on her behalf? Him, of all people?]

... Fine. You don't really think I'm a monster.

[As soon as the concession is made, she follows it up with a sneer.]

Because you're a sentimental fool too.

[... Her hand did hurt. It hurt a lot. She glances down, and sees red beginning to leech out into the fabric of her tunic.

She sighs and thrusts the injured hand out toward him, and she talks more quietly and calmly again.]

When I turned into that... thing... it was the people closest to me that I attacked. The people who I-

[...cared about. Saying it out loud sounded ridiculous.]

...people I had no reason to hurt. What does that make me, if not a monster?