“I am concerned with the safety of other people, not what’s right.”
Michael is staring at Maggie Evans.
Maggie is a pretty young woman who used to be a waitress, and now works at Collinwood as David’s private tutor. Michael is a seven-week-old baby monster who came out of a time travelling box, and will someday cleanse the Earth of its human population. Everybody has to be something, I suppose.
Michael’s come over to the house today, unannounced and uninvited, because he wants to play with David and be insolent to grown-ups. Maggie was in the middle of a lesson with David, but now Michael’s here, and she’s not sure what to do.
The problem is that Michael is such an odd little boy. He says things that sound polite — “You wouldn’t do that, would you, Miss Evans?” he says — but he keeps his eyes locked on hers, unblinking, in a way that people generally don’t, unless they’re planning to murder you.
Maggie finally decides that it’s okay — she’ll grade David’s paper, and the boys can play in the drawing room. But as she’s gathering up the papers, she feels Michael’s eyes, still following her. She turns, and sees that he hasn’t moved; he’s just standing there at the door, staring her down.
She tries to collect herself, and says, “Michael, is something wrong?”
He keeps sizing her up. “What could be wrong, Miss Evans?” he asks, with a faint smile.
“You keep staring at me.”
Anxious to break the tension, David cries, “I’ve got it! We can play Wall Street. Do you like Wall Street, Michael?”
“It doesn’t matter what game we play, David,” the boy sneers. “You know that.”
So, yeah, of course they’re going to play Wall Street. This kid is the living embodiment of the Big Short.