[When Cassandra says "his type", Utena feels like she's going to throw up; she knows exactly what she means. But there's other reasons behind these obsessions, aren't there? Cassandra catches her eye again before she can get lost in her own thoughts, and she nods, steadied by Cassandra's reassurances, by the kind of steady anger that validates her without inflaming her own rage]

So, just like everything else he says. Everything he says is shit, it's fake, it's... god, everything about him is fake, isn't it? He's just- underneath that helmet, underneath that suit, there's just nothing.