[Anya tilts her head, and a soft, incisive solemnity steals over her features.]

She was lost. She overreached, I think - compelled things she only wanted given, and she ran away from it because she couldn't run from herself. She became my father's tool because it was easier to follow orders than face her fear of what might happen in response to her own. She was a poor judge of character, because it was never a skill she had to rely on.

[There's no sympathy in her words, but no vitriol either.]