As Carlisle persists, as he continues to further shed more light on the situation, Rey's muscles tighten and her jaw clenches. It doesn't help that she wants to lash out at something, both due to the subject matter and the alcohol in her bloodstream, and unable to do anything about either at the moment.

So her fingers just squeeze around the bottle when Carlisle makes to grab it. Her knuckles turn white, and the bottle remains as though glued to its spot on the counter. Any more and she could break the glass, but restrains herself out of necessity.

"Yes."

The questions Carlisle presents not only serve to reveal more of the puzzle to her, but flare up her anger as well. Anger towards Shadow, towards his treatment of others, even his suggestion that she use violence against her own family. All of it.

Her eyes narrow, and she snarls. "Was 'born' underground, with bodies constructed of immortal cells. Weapons development shit. Used by people. Manipulated. Killed and hurt loved ones, oftentimes because there was someone who willed it. Despite all of that, would never take someone's freedom away. Ever. There's no excuse to be as bad as the bastards who pulled your strings.

"You should have 'let him have that much'? Fuck that. You don't just expect people to give that to you because you had a shit life -- you fucking earn it."

Seems those points aren't just close to Carlisle's home; they're hers, too. Old and worn and changed by it, made new.

You are a vessel, an empty husk not yet made whole.