Her preconceived notions rolled right off her tongue, "But you're one of the good guys!"

Where she gets this, "You'll do what's right. I know it!" certitude from is beyond my knowledge, but according to her, it is not without foundation. She claims to have built it on fleeting moments of my person, such as the tear I shed in her presence, the momentary oath I vowed to her, my choice to preserve this world, and whatever else she knew of my past. She claims to have seen the deeper side of me in these things, and, "at the end of it all—even if I seem spiteful of you for a moment—the deeper side is the side I judge you on."

Even with basis, I chalked it up to her being a biased optimist. Patrick Stewart's Weltanschauung (1) is very much in character with her, and with it, she intends to absolve the misanthropic by mapping out a topograhy of her own virtues. It's just the way she is.

"I'm not biased! I'm confident."

As I am not "good," for making "good choices" does not make me a "good person." I have told her this. I don't remember the weather or the hour, but I have told her this.

"That's tragic, I think—that I believe in you more than you do."

"On your part, not mine."

"...You'll try very hard, won't you?" Her smile was cold. "To ruin my opinion of you."

"I don't care for anyone's opinions, so if I've caused destruction to someone else's conscience, then it has been done unconsciously."

"...Now I understand why you are the way you are. You have no belief system—you just stand behind someone else's..." She said it tragically at the time. "In my opinion, you should only think of yourself now, you know..."

Her opinions have no stability, so whether they're substantial or not is up for debate. On one hand, she is prejudice against anyone. On another, she is accepting of everyone. The enemy from three seconds ago is suddenly treated as her friend; the friend from three seconds ago is suddenly treated as her enemy. Perhaps that has nothing to do with ever changing opinions, but ever changing moods.

More than anyone, she is consumed by her feelings, unabashed in both her affections and her antipathy, yet still manages to solve wars with righteous judgement. There is no befriending her without experiencing a wave of vertigo, and I am confident that Sigmund Freud would have been baffled by how she came into being. Either way, I would not encourage a scientist to study her in his place. I told her this. I can't remember the weather or the hour, but I told her this.

"It's too late to be thinking like this now!" She tutted, but there was something of a grin on her face as well, because I remember how big her teeth looked to me when she said, "I've stolen your promise from you, remember?"

I don't.

"You mean you still don't remember?"

I suppose I should invest some curiosity into the person I blindly gave Maria's promise to, then.

"Oi, Shadow!" She pouted. "Your memory is as clear as dishwater sometimes. Even so, you get my faith in you in return for that vow, okay? That'll be the contract from now on."

I tried to find the humor, but something else had stirred my mood. "...I don't care for that expression on your face."

It was a melancholic expression, and it was out of character for her. From what I know, she is meant to be smiling with great exaggeration. An opposite nature would be too distracting, but the ratio of raging compared to smiling would probably be 3:5 at best. Having only interacted with her insightful nature, I am very biased towards her cheerful disposition. Her next reply was consistent with my thoughts and yet inconsistent with the conversation—

"People don't have to smile all the time just because they seem cheerful, you know. Even if I lose everything one day, I have to stay strong, but it doesn't mean that I can't cry every now and again."

"...Why are you telling me these things?"

Now that I think about it, I don't recall allowing her to hold my hand with such a sympathetic face—nor do I recall inviting her to that hill. I only asked for the location of that blue hedgehog. I thought the reason behind her behavior might've been in her eyes somewhere, but looking back, it seemed to have been in her smile. I believe there was a remark along the contents of, "Because when you're like this, you remind me of Gamma..." before she said—

"You're not like that, are you, Shadow? Even if you lost everything, you never cried about it, but you still showed everyone that it was possible to live on after you defeated Black Doom, didn't you? Taking that road made you feel invincible, didn't it?" I vaguely remember her hand falling away from mine. "So you should have hope in your goodness, too!"

My bland pessimism was offset by her spiky optimism as she iterated her point—

"You're no Sonic, but you're good in a pinch."

Some subtle influence passed from her to me, and for a moment, I saw something I'd seen on the face of someone else from my past.

"...You don't have to smile and laugh in the dark all the time, either, of course. When you do smile, it's usually so small that you need a protractor to measure the angle, but it's good enough!"

I couldn't see the expression on my face, but whatever was on it seemed to make her grin and give my hand a reassuring squeeze.

...I chalked her support up to her being a biased optimist. Nothing more, nothing less. Patrick Stewart's Weltanschauung is very much in character with her, and with it, she intended to absolve me. It's just the way she is. It's nothing personal—

"I have to keep my promise to Maria...and you."

—And it's suddenly come to my attention that I did more than admire it once upon a time...

I can't remember the setting or the hour, but I remember the words.

(1) Weltanschauung: a comprehensive conception or image of the universe and of humanity's relation to it.