[ She listens quietly as she lights her own cigarette, watching him in a considering way while he talks. Maybe there's some sad kind of irony to it all, something about living and dying by the sword. Honestly, if she dwells on it too long, it makes her fucking sad. ]

Guess it wouldn't change much even if you did regret it. [ Smoke wisps around her words. ] Hindsight is twenty-twenty anyway. We kill, then we're killed, and that's how it always goes. Circle of fucking life, huh?