Sam's fist is still raised, as if he's forgotten what he's supposed to do next. He almost wishes Atton would hit back, do something, instead of just sitting there looking like that.

It's a while before he speaks, and when he does his head is down, hair falling into his eyes, and his voice is quiet, with an odd, bitter-sad-something note in it.

"For an intelligent guy, you're so fucking dense, sometimes, Atton Rand."