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[/html]"Perhaps," Tayui offered in response, an ambiguous and unfeeling reply to an emotionally-charged statement. Jefferson raised his head, green eye analytical; there were countless things being left unspoken between the two, understandable by their quick and early friendship, but when it came to what relatives he had left, the male knew no shame and did not shy away. Tattered ears stood at attention, his reading of her subtle words and movements continuing through her next words. She was left with regret, with bitter feelings, and that solidified his conclusions. He nodded slowly, as if it suddenly dawned on him.
"You wanted to take him down yourself," he said, eye thinning, head still nodding as his thoughts and analytics persisted. "You wanted to finish him off for what he did to you and your daughter, but someone else got to him first." A pause. "He was my brother, but I would have killed him too, first chance I got. I'm glad I didn't have to. I'm tired of killing." His head dipped.
A moment later, eye glanced up at her once more. "What happened isn't your fault," he offered. He could have told her what regret really meant, what failed redemption could really due to a soul. He could have told her that she could turn out like he if she allowed the regret to eat her alive, but he didn't. He remained silent — a stony, gray silence.