[ On some level he knows that was a stupid question. He knows it's probably idealistic to think that they could have taken down that entity that had dispatched them with all the effort of a man kicking apart an anthill. And hypotheticals never matter, anyway. 'If's are worthless. Even so, Eustace's answer has him giving a low sigh of ... exhaustion? Frustration? He's not even sure. And bogged down as he is by the dark undercurrent of those thoughts, he's a beat slow to realize Eustace has asked him back. ]

-- huh?

[ And a beat slow to control his emotions, too. For one moment there's no masking the sickly consternation and agitation coloring his gaze, a mental snapshot of that horrific display of the prisoners rising to the forefront of his mind before he can shove it back down. Even if he hurriedly looks away once more and rubs his hand over his face, that vulnerability was unmistakably there. ]

It's ... killing someone is one thing. But something like that -- [ He exhales slowly before lowering his hand, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed to a tense stare into the middle distance. ] ...m'just not used to it. I know it's just something that has to be done, but ...

[ It still makes his stomach churn. Because even if he's killed before, even if there's blood on his hands, it wasn't like this. He needs to force another breath slow and ragged before managing to conjure words. ]

Just need some time to get used to it. [ Because surely, he'll manage in the end. He has to. ] ... wasn't it the same for you? When you started.