And what of those who want no second chances? Wu thought, a murmur in his head that was buried under the point of contact between Carmel and himself. He'd nearly asked it, almost made it clear to this woman that he wasn't here for redemption of any sort, and even if he couldn't say it now? It was the truth. Wu's burden wasn't in his crimes, there was no remorse...
"Eight years ago, there was a woman," he said softly, abruptly even as his eyes drifted down from Carmel's and fixed on her hand. "The wife of an employee of mine. This man had been skimming money from me for some time." He could've explained it more, perhaps, but the tried had been Wu's world for so long that he didn't bother any more. Any theft was treated severely, it showed contempt for those you served. It made sense to him, other people would have to keep up. "She came home to him gone, to what remains ," Wu continued in a nearly-gentle tone, cringing internally at telling Carmel this. The generous, warm woman didn't need to know she'd enjoyed the company of a man like him.
"I would not have hurt her... a widow does not deserve more than her bereavement. She had a gun, her husband's perhaps," he went on, studying Carmel's hand intently, learning the curves and contours while he could. "You have seen my scars. Even for them, I would have spared her. My men did not." And it clung to him, clearly. It lingered in ways Wu didn't fully realize until he actually said them out loud. For any absence of zeal or feeling, that he said so much at all spoke volumes.