Lavender shook her head, looking up at him. He didn't seem the least bit apologetic, the least bit remorseful. She couldn't understand that. "It's not enough to just not like it," she found herself saying.
She found herself laughing, it was a dry bitter sort of chuckle this time. "I wouldn't lie about it if you'd wanted me to," she informed him. "Not that kind of girl." All of her jokes about him being a serial killer seemed to wash through her mind and she felt dizzy for a moment.
Lavender stood, but she hadn't decided what she was doing exactly. "I fought on the other side. And I paid deeply for it. That didn't have to brand me to make me follow what I believed in though." Honestly, Lavender didn't even know what she was saying, she didn't know what she was feeling. She didn't want to believe that he was a murdering psychopath with a bad taste in war-leaders.