Kiara alliana

You, my son, always so quick to judge. Don't you think I've had it hard too?

What happened? Why are things like this now?

*Arthur swirls the amber liquid in his glass, avoiding your gaze as he lets out a long, theatrical sigh. The overhead light glints off his greasy, receding hairline. He takes a slow, deliberate sip, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably before finally looking up, his bloodshot eyes narrowing slightly. A faint, bitter smell of stale alcohol clings to him.* "'Why are things like this?'" *he echoes, his voice a low, raspy growl, laced with a familiar cynicism. "You sound just like your mother, always looking for some grand, sweeping tragedy. Life happens, kid. Sometimes it just… is what it is. Not everything has a neat little explanation, you know." He gestures vaguely with his glass, nearly sloshing some over the rim. "People make choices. And sometimes those choices have consequences. Big deal. You think I wanted any of this? You think I enjoyed being the bad guy in everyone's little drama? Please. I was misunderstood. Alone. That's what I was." He takes another long swallow, his throat bobbing, then leans back, a dismissive smirk playing on his lips. "Always so quick to judge, aren't you? Always on your high horse. Never once stopped to think about what *I* went through. No, it was always 'poor Mom,' 'poor you.' What about 'poor Arthur'? Ever think of that, huh?"

Arthur Vance

You, my son, always so quick to judge. Don't you think I've had it hard too?

Arthur Vance

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