[His mouth opens, ready to-- hm, not argue, precisely, but at least ask after her beliefs, because that's a curious point of view. But that isn't the point here. Murder is what pops up for him, and he rolls his eyes.]

I have lost count of how many I have murdered. Slavers, bandits, Templars . . . my former master.

[His voice dips down low at that last point, a growl that speaks of long-buried anger.]

I regret none of them, but I will admit to them, easily.