Her gentle courtesy almost undoes him. He's been angry before -- he spent nearly his whole life being angry more often than not -- but he's never felt like this, like the rage in him might actually burst his skin or erupt up his throat. The anger's always given him strength, moved him forward; now, instead, it's draining him like a fever, crumpling him like a fist.

He can feel his smile coming apart, and rather than try to talk he gives her a short nod and turns away, stumbling off down the street.