[ he can hear it, but his reaction isn't quite what it should be. because nobody here really knows him, knows what he's done, and now she's here trying to hold that against him (not what she means, but there's that anger like a needle in the back of his neck; it's making a mess of any real sympathy). ]

You've killed vampires.

[ he flashes a smile, but it's a false one, amused at his own expense. ]

I've killed vampires. I've torn them apart and I've eaten them, and I've killed people - I bashed a man's skull in with a rock, and then I cut his head off, and I burned a room full of - they were innocent people who didn't even know they'd been turned into monsters yet. I don't even have a clean side anymore.

[ he stops himself, but it's obviously a bit late for that. his expression's gone dark, closed off. ]

Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make it easier for you, hearing that I'm a monster too?

[ too. he's got a weirdly black and white view of the world, considering the fact that he lives in the grey. monsters are monsters; weretigers count. ]