And they weren’t. Manicured to mechanical perfection, the nails polished immaculately, cut short at exactly two millimeters past the tip of the finger.
"Yet, we both know that I am. I have seen lives ended at the hands of enraged cattle, good people’s shells stripped apart by inelegant tools of destruction. I have in turn killed this cattle, throwing their lifeless husks to the hungry void. I have fought enemies sheltered by walls they thought would keep them safe. I have imagined their screams in my mind. My lasers danced across their unshielded armor-stripped hulls exposing empty interiors to space and I smiled as they died."
"These are not the hands of a killer," she said, looking squarely into the eyes of the young man across from him, "but this is the face of one."