And I realized someone had beaten me to the punch a long time ago. A closer look revealed that Jane's body was marked with a network of scars, and her face had the same expression as my uncle's after he got back from his third tour in Afghanistan.
Naturally, she was freaking out. I quickly wished that she would accept the situation as normal, and she calmed down, slightly. "Oh God, Joe. Joe. I'm so sorry. That was a real bad time for me and I took it out on you. I'm so sorry."
This wasn't going the way I was expecting it at all, and the gloating speech I was going to give, telling her that she was now helpless in my power, died somewhere inside me.
"What happened, Jane?"
She sat down on the bed in the Spartan, ratty-looking apartment. "God," she began "How I hated being a cheerleader."