[ It's a good question, one she takes awhile in answering. There's a lot there, a lot of thing between her and Jack, like there was between any father and daughter. But fear?

Maybe, when she was little and to every little girl their dad might as well be a superhero, there is nothing he couldn't do, and then he had done it, -- and then she'd found out just what kind of man he was. It's a jilted memory that comes up sharp, of pain, immeasurable pain and her throat is burning and her eyes are stinging and the air is a cacophony of gun rattle and bullet smoke, sulfuric, she remembers, her own voice calling over it all grit with the force of keeping on, what it's like to be nothing but misery and the need to get this done : he's lying, the coward would never face you in person. ]

No, not like you'd think. It's... hard to explain. But he was just the same scared man he always was. He just had a multi-billion dollar company at his disposal. He pretended otherwise, but -- [ she shrug, a simplistic gesture that covers a lot but mostly, she knew. ] -- knowing that didn't exactly change anything though.