She gives him a blank look. This one's not quite as judgemental as the others - it seems, if anything, more like a look of disbelief. Like she can't quite get her head around the idea. It's a moment before she replies, and in that moment, she's managed to hunch herself up even more, her shoulders somewhere up by her ears at this point.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." It's lacking any real venom, though. The truth is, this is turning into one of those conversations - the ones that set the ground off-balance under her, making her question herself, a brutal reminder of what she already knows. That she's missing something vital. That there's something wrong with her. She can admit she's a mess, but she can't afford to question what she believes. "But justice isn't unimportant, either. Real justice, not the shit they're selling."