Both men watched her with differing levels of clear sympathy on their kind faces. Part of her felt guilty that she was going to use her hard-earned skills against these men. Most of her, however, kept reminding herself that the world was a cruel and dangerous place for those who weren't willing to get their hands dirty. She didn't know anything about the men. Maybe they were running from something too. Maybe they wanted nothing to do with their children. Hated them for what they represented. Or maybe they were filled with rage that they took out on everyone they met because of a failed love affair that could never be more than just a handful of nights they lived to regret. They could be abusive husbands who could whisper sweet words into their wife's ear making her believe he actually loved her and things would finally change one second and then push her down the stairs the next.