He's twitching from discomfort still, but he's just going to leave the blood where it is. He is still trying hard not to seem bothered by the pain, even if he was finally pushed to speaking. And even through that, he sees a bit of humor in talking about the state of humanity with something distinctly non-human.

"Sure, anyone can kill. Give them the tools and motivation, they can go through the motions. The trick is training a kid with some sense of human value into an adult who can live with themselves just fine."

And doesn't Dodger look like he's fine? Wrists wrapped up in gauze, blood still caking his face and staining the front of his shirt, knuckles still bruised from the last fight he got into. He smells like alcohol and gasoline, and he's in the process of lighting another cigarette. Definitely not someone coping with a lifetime of tremendous stress.

"People who haven't killed before freeze up. They see someone screaming in pain, begging for mercy and think oh fuck, this is wrong. That's the part you have to beat out, if you want a killer." He glances up at Beelzemon, and raises a brow. "You're afraid of letting your world get destroyed. You wouldn't understand."