"And the thing is," I say, my voice cracking, "he seemed different. Not, like, *good* different. But... I don't know. Uncomfortable. Like he didn't know what to do with himself when I wasn't falling apart or fighting back."
"Because you didn't give him what he wanted," River says. "You stayed in control."
"Yeah. But River, it was so hard. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to tell him he had no right to be there, that he'd already taken enough from me and he didn't get to take this too."
"But you didn't."
"No. I just... kept working. Kept being professional. And he got so frustrated." I laugh, but it sounds bitter even to my own ears. "Like my refusal to engage was somehow worse than anything he's ever done to me."
"Good," River says firmly. "Let him be frustrated. Let him sit in that
