[Gallagher]

Lucienne looked upon her servant in the yellowed lights of the street lamps, the monstrosity that he was. A thing that spoke of sin while sullying the ground with his very existence. There was an unusual sort of... charm, loathe as she was to think it, in his honesty. The sort of charm that no one but she could truly appreciate. Like every ruler that came before him, and every ruler after, like every follower and every man that sought his own path, Pelles was exceptionally good at believing his own lies.

Lancer looked down at her, tall as the shadow that stretched between aged artificial lights, and sought the cracks between stone buildings to hide itself in. A delusional man with thoughts as crooked as his spine. Lucienne met those eyes, one blinded while the other throbbed and endlessly bled.

She saw him, and she smiled.

"It seems I have erred indeed. Yet I still doubt that you'll find the life of a woman like me all that interesting. It's been as storybooks go, predictable and comforting only in that the characters you know haven't yet passed when the final chapter comes to an end. I was once a girl, but that time has passed. And I was once taught to do others no harm, to only interfere when I might bring good to those in question. And that time, too, has passed. I was once young and fertile, in love and filled with hope. I once wasted my opportunities, until my love as well had passed. For the last twenty-seven years, I've worked to become the woman you see now, mon cochon. More knowledgeable than I've been, perhaps, but no less foolish. I believe we're all the same in that regard. I simply acknowledge it, unlike most of us sinners."