[ Jesse takes the photo with newly numb fingers, not sure exactly how he feels about everything she’d just said. The anger isn’t directed at him, which is a welcome change. And it’s all based in the truth. Blackwatch—and Reyes, as an individual—had always operated in the grayest areas of morality. On occasion, harm had to be done for the greater good. Like taking a boy from a life of organized crime and molding him into a weapon against the very crimes he’d committed himself, while also cutting him off from every good thing he’d had. And the people who’d had him, too.

It was messy. Jesse can’t begrudge her a single feeling she’s having, but neither can he find it in him to agree. He knows the knee-jerk urge he has to defend Reyes somehow would only make this all go so much worse, so he takes a second to overcome it. Eyes closed. A deep breath in, then out again. ]

… You’re not wrong.

[ Still, he’d been happy. They’d been family. And when he looks at the picture in his hands, what he feels more than anything is a pleasant nostalgia. His expression schooled blank, he carefully tucks the picture back into his wallet before taking the lighter from her hand. He flicks it on and holds it out for her as he wrestles with what to say next. ]

Reyes was a complicated man, and Blackwatch did a lot of things that weren’t what most would call ethical. I did a lot of those things myself.

[ But they’d done it with a mutual understanding and agreement on how far they would go. That is, right up until Venice. ]