I don't really respect power for it's own sake, but some do. I just know to stay out of its way if possible.

It wasn't entirely patternless, but I've only managed to pick up hints as to why. Forgive me, but I consider that to be a somewhat private matter. I think I know what he's doing, and why he insists on putting me in places where I am likely to die. I would rather not speak about it, however.

[It wasn't exactly a pleasant subject to explain that she thought she might be some minor demon's 'pet project' for corrupting a useful tool for his later machinations. That, and she didn't exactly trust Sherlock that much, not to mention that it always sounded almost hopelessly paranoid beyond recognition whenever she had explained it, even to herself.]

[Roughly on par with Hercules 'step-mother' issues, actually. Daddy's a bastard. She only sounds moderately calmer.]

No... my father just has this perverse thought that dying horribly screws with my head. He's pretty much right. It'd screw with anyone. I just haven't given up.

And believe me. I've been trying. The fact that it seems like the gods here stole my soul from him... is both alarming and relieving.

[Because that's the only explanation she has for him not influencing her directly here.]