“Seriously. You’re nice,” she said, leaning back in the couch. “You know, if I can look past the murder attempts.”
"I can," she said quietly, tipping her head towards the ceiling. "But I don't like to be. I mean, I messed with you so I could kill you. A truly kind person wouldn't do that."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I could be. But that doesn't mean much if I'm not, does it?"