After he had watched Galen sink to the floor and had saw the blood coloring Galen's lips he looked at the few drops of blood splatter on his hand. He was initially frightened by it, but deep inside there was a part of him that was thrilled by the sight of blood; no matter who it belonged too. It made him feel sick to feel this way, even though the corner of his lip was sliding upwards into that of a grin which was quickly vanquished by the ill feeling in his gut.
He stooped in front of Galen a strange pair of emotions dancing around in his eyes; hatred and remorse it seemed were taking each their separate turns and pushing each other back and forth.
"You're not horrible," he said softly before his voice firmed and he sneered, "But you better be sorry."