He watched her for a long moment, "you're serious." He didn't believe in the Christian's concept of soul, but he could understand it. Sort of. "I can't ask that. I don't even fully understand what that is, but I get it enough to where I can't ask that. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a monster."
He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated and trying to shut the little voice up that wanted her back. "Your faith is as ingrained in you as I am a God. Your faith made you immortal. Besides, I've told you I have no issues with your Christ. Just everyone who follows him." He leaned against the icon and sighed, "I don't know what you can do. We are so different Mary."
He tilted his head, "you say so much and I'd like to believe you. But here. There's a man in a room, bound. He invaded my home. A member of a gang not of my own, trying to gain ground. Tomorrow, at dawn, he dies. They will tie him to this icon, and give me his heart. This is war. This is me. Can you stand here, next to me, and watch that man die? See them take his heart out, while it beats it's last, and offer it to me? He's done nothing to you. He's just unlucky enough to be caught."