[He's always done his best to keep himself from lashing out. Polite, good-mannered-- these were the traits he played up to mask everything else he may have been feeling. But there's a line for everyone, and Hinata is dancing dangerously close upon the edge.

The cot creaks as he pushes himself up. Draws himself to his full height and stares down at the small boy in front of him with narrowed eyes, expression sharp as a knife.]

You don't really believe that. [Gone is the warmth in his voice. There's a different heat, now, born from the spark he'd been careful to bury deep down. It's dangerous. Furious, despite its quietness.] You're somebody. You're not a tool that can be thrown away. You've got thoughts and feelings and dreams, the hell are you talking about?

[You can't let them break you down. Regardless of how people saw you or how they treated you, you could never let them beat you to the point where you stopped being yourself.]

Are you telling me you'd be happy wasting all that, just because someone treats you that way?