I don’t give a shit what other wardens are like. I give a shit that mine takes some pride in the title. Maybe listen to what I actually say instead of projecting what you think I will. Or, I don’t know, ask.

Is that what you call murder? Breaking the rules?

[He takes a moment to gather himself, just a half-second’s breath.] You know what, I don’t give a shit about that either. That’s between you and Shaw.

Now please listen to the actual words I’m saying:

If you hurt Malcolm, irrespective of his position or the blow it would be to him to lose it, I will make you wish you could die for keeps.

I don’t want him to be afraid of himself. I do want him to be happy. If we can keep ourselves aligned there, then the rest of it doesn’t matter.