"I don’t live in your world," he told her. "Too bad if that makes me sound crass. But I can tell you this much—if you want to go back, and be-who-you-are, and live your cozy life in that whole world of yours, you’d better not try to kick its jams out. Maybe I could survive a stunt like that, ducking and dodging out here in the desert, but I don’t think you could. The world doesn’t give a shit how noble your motives are—it’ll roll right over you. That’s how it works." He was lecturing her. "You can hustle—cut a corner here, a corner there—but you can’t tackle the world...."