He nods again, alarmingly dog-like, and kisses her hand. "Yes. I hope you succeed because I don’t like it here. I hope you fail because some part of me hates you. When you came in, I wanted to hurt you. Now I think you seem very nice. You—you like my books. My little home. You don’t wish me ill as a person, but as an example of a type. I have no quarrel with you as a person, only as an officer of the law. Is it Stockholm syndrome, I wonder? Sudden onset, primed over...how many hundreds of days? Well. You have—you have changed my mind. I think quite deeply. Ironic, is it not? Exactly what I could not achieve on my own, to beat your System. Ah, well. And now I am torn."