She huffed, one eyebrow raised. "Okay! If I were you? Yes. Of course I'd send me in. Without question."
"No," she said hastily. "If I were you, and I was looking at me? Of course, I would send me in, Abel. It's the only step that makes sense."
She hesitated, looking over at him. "Well, I... I mean..." She stammered for a moment before shaking her head, her resolve hardening. "You know, Abel, this is an irrelevant argument you're making. I'm not you and you're not me and it's my life anyway, not yours. If I say that I'm okay with going, then I should go."
She glared at him, crossing her arms and falling silent for a moment. “I don’t understand what’s holding you back, Abel,” she said flatly, ignoring the question. “Look around. Why are you living in this house with the planning room and the concrete walls and the small windows? It isn’t because of me. You’ve had a goal for a long time and you’re stopping for some girl.”
“Because you know I’m right,” she replied sharply, standing up. “You’re too scared to admit that you know I’m right, but right now, we’re not making any progress.”
She seemed to take his silence as confirmation and she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she turned to leave.
"I don't think you're right," he said. "I think you'd be just as conflicted. That's why you dodged the question."
She stopped at the door, her hand on the door frame. "You're not conflicted," she replied. "You're just saying no."
She turned to him, her brows furrowing. "Say... say I was a machine rather than a person, Abel," she said, looking tired. "Would you have any doubts about sending me in? Do you agree that this would be a good move for the mission?"
She pointed at him. “There it is. So, the only thing holding you up is the fact that it’s me. You acknowledge that this would be a great move for the mission.”
