He hates you, Robert. He hates your uniform. He fought you in Sicily.

Will you yet say before him who kills you, I am God? but you are man, and not God, in the hand of him who wounds you.

Wilt thou yet say before him that slayeth thee, I am God? but thou shalt be a man, and no God, in the hand of him that slayeth thee.

Is that why you are so mad at me? Could I have beaten the hell out of you once and you ve held a grudge against me since? If you had told me we could ve just resolved this amicably outside.