[ That is honest. But it doesn't faze her, simply because she's no stranger to that sort of life. It makes her wonder about his, wonder what sort of person he was to have lived so many years that way. She can't think in the cut and dried dichotomy of good guy and bad guy. War taught her to live in the grey, see the world that way too. ]

It might make you popular in the underground fighting rings, [ she says thoughtfully. She does size him up a little now out of instinctive wariness, but he's built like a fighter and he'd been in a resistance group. Those are often not bloodless. She can manage. ] But you might have to pull your punches. I doubt there's much profit to be made in routinely killing your opponent.

[ A beat. ]

But what do I know? I just work in a great office job. [ Her lips quirk a fraction, parroting his own words back to him: ] I could be totally off base.