Shula swirled the liquid in her glass around, watching it hug the sides of the cup in an erratic dance. She let out a laugh, her face clearly flushed and her mind obviously a little blurry. "I won't, but don't think I take it as a compliment. I guess...I guess I was always made out to be a weapon and not really a sentient being. It's why I was born. It's why I'm still alive. Sometimes when I think about it I'm afraid that's how I'll die too..." She took another drink, her face dropping and turning into a more somber expression.<br/><br/>"It's why people are always after me. I don't know what I want to do but I know it's not this... I have a mind you know. But then again I guess that sounds silly to most people. Like a knife having a soul or a gun that has flesh. I'm not what everyone intended... I'll never be. Maybe that's what I deserve- I've never been good at anything else. I've just always been fighting." She sat there in silence for a minute, staring at her glass blankly as she seemed to contemplate her fears. She shook her head, laughing and wiping her eyes. She hadn't realized she began crying until then.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry! I'm rambling now. oh god, how much have we gone through?" she asked, looking at the empty bottles.