[How perfectly vague. "The other side".]

[He lets out a low sigh, wishing he had a cigarette. He'll just take to pursing his lips instead, thoughtful.]

I want to build things that last. [Nothing that changes on a whim. Destroyed on a whim. When everything changes, nothing changes.] And I'm no...fighter. But I suppose we have no choice, do we? Made to act as...tools. How distasteful.