"Yeah," I exhale, throwing in a kick when it strikes my fancy, though it sometimes disrupts my groove. "Yeah, that's so. Us super-types, we don't always get along. I get that. And when we're hacked off, we try to get under the other guy's skin sometimes, because we think maybe it'll make us feel better, that split-second of triumph, of rubbing someone else's face in their own mistakes.

"Which, again, fine. I made a career out of that. You wanna trade words with Tony, that's your prerogative. But don't talk about something you weren't even there for in front of the guy who nearly died, alright? I'm friends with enough jerks."