[Apparently she just shouldn't be allowed to say things to Donny, considering how thoroughly she manages to keep making an ass of herself.

For a moment she's quiet, expression somewhere between wrought and apologetic, as she tries to work out how to explain or apologize or something, since she likes Atlas, thinks Donny could use a friend, and doesn't want to leave this on a sour note.]

Wait. [As he stands, and she reaches out her hand to lay on the table closer to him, not actually making contact, but the gesture is clear enough. Stay. More quietly:] I wasn't being fair.

[She looks up at him, then away, sinking into her chair a little.]

My daughter won't have any of that; the only family she'll know is the one who took her in, and that's-- I know it's so much better, for her, because she doesn't want the same blood I've got, because she's better off growing up without knowing what her mother, her grandparents are like.

[She can't imagine telling her daughter that she was the one who started the gang war.]

But that's not... It's not the same for everyone. I wasn't thinking.

[She was just thinking about herself, her own circumstances, instead of how it might be for someone else.]

I'm sorry.