"You're the one who's jumping to conclusions," he points out, argumentative but not entirely unreasonable. Sure, he tends toward extremes, but he's not the only one jumping to them right now. Because yeah he's excited about finally getting to work, but it's some leap in logic for this guy to assume that automatically makes him "happily violent," or whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. This isn't even a fight. They're not suiting up to charge into battle. They're sitting on a fucking bus.

"What am I supposed to do, pretend I don't want to be here?" he asks, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. His back has gone stiff. From the moment he'd fled the disaster area that had been his home, he's wanted a way to strike back. He's close enough to taste it, now. "There's no point. I've been waiting for this chance for a long time. Lots of us have."