My woman's really smart. She's got a lot of Hate she could've conjured when I put the murder weapon in her hand. That glass of water. There was a ton of metaphysical rocket fuel, in the form of Hate, she could have tapped into while trying to magically assassinate the binderweed under our front yard. But she doesn't want to be sending energy like that out to eventually return to her. So she uses her Hate in other ways.
When she took the glass of water, she could have been excited or smiley- reveling in the demise of her tormentor. Instead, she got all stoic. Like a fucking samurai. Like- this job is getting done.
I watched her. Not one hint of anger or resentment, or even doubt, crossed her face. She took her time. Didn't let me hurry her. Only when she was happy with her performance did she move on to the next step.
That is rare. If I am taking the lead, in something like this, she will usually follow at my pace. She didn't do that this time. She made sure all her corners were covered. Thorough.
She did not send Hate out into the Universe. But her Hate made her a much more effective partner in the endeavor. It gave her the juice to make sure the job got done right. I did not hate the binderweed and could muster little juice for the Two Glass hit. She pulled the trigger. I drove the car.
Her Hate - not an active, seething, self-poisoning Hate, but an Extreme Disfavor - for the binderweed made her performance excel. Turned her into a goddamn samurai.
You are far more powerful than they will ever tell you.
