He appreciates it, he does, the way Seth simply cuts through the hesitations and pauses and winces and avoids stating it in any way less than what it is.
"Yes."
Daniel owes it to him to be explicit.
"You'd be targeting the point where the rebels' forces are densest. Now they've - they've already slaughtered millions and they're well on their way to establishing a complete dictatorship, providing this whole world doesn't choke on its own Armageddon first."
But.
But.
"But you're right." The inherent disapproval, the blunt fear, the horrible, stark reluctance to simply engage in that sort of mass killing doesn't need to be worded. Daniel can read it on Seth's face and stance and in the flat way he refuses to play into the temptation of guarding his words in polite genteelisms. Daniel can admire that. He wishes he could emulate it, but that's not allowed of him anymore. He won't allow it for himself. He lost that right years ago.
"You would be attacking potentially defenseless people," Daniel states, measured and unambiguous, leveling upon Seth a fixed, unremitting stare, painful and neutral and locked. "You would be killing and injuring dozens and possibly hundreds if the damage spread. There's no guarantee it would even work. And if anyone should do it, it - I would - I don't want you to have to." The controlled tone fractures, the desperation leaks through, and Daniel's jaw locks.
the moral dilemma fun is going to continue so tw for fucked up decisions, moral debate, and murder
"Yes."
Daniel owes it to him to be explicit.
"You'd be targeting the point where the rebels' forces are densest. Now they've - they've already slaughtered millions and they're well on their way to establishing a complete dictatorship, providing this whole world doesn't choke on its own Armageddon first."
But.
But.
"But you're right." The inherent disapproval, the blunt fear, the horrible, stark reluctance to simply engage in that sort of mass killing doesn't need to be worded. Daniel can read it on Seth's face and stance and in the flat way he refuses to play into the temptation of guarding his words in polite genteelisms. Daniel can admire that. He wishes he could emulate it, but that's not allowed of him anymore. He won't allow it for himself. He lost that right years ago.
"You would be attacking potentially defenseless people," Daniel states, measured and unambiguous, leveling upon Seth a fixed, unremitting stare, painful and neutral and locked. "You would be killing and injuring dozens and possibly hundreds if the damage spread. There's no guarantee it would even work. And if anyone should do it, it - I would - I don't want you to have to." The controlled tone fractures, the desperation leaks through, and Daniel's jaw locks.