[ in the end, it seems like he didn't have to push for answers one bit. Diva's never really withheld much from him, so it's not that surprising. On the other hand, her story might be. The more she talks about herself, where she came from, the worse he feels; every new anecdote lends some awful reasoning to her behavior, and he still probably hasn't heard half of it. What he does know is too terrible for him to even fully comprehend - after all, he hasn't even lived 50 years yet. She was tortured and nameless for twice as long as he's been alive - how could he begin to wrap his head around something like that? ]

Diva... [ quiet, melancholy. Her head feels heavy against his shoulder. "Sorry" doesn't exactly cut it. It wasn't right for her to kill all those people - he can't say that in good conscience - but it's hard to say it wasn't justified after what happened to her. There was no easy right answer here. Just like the situation with Mary in the gallery.

But Diva would be the Mary here, wouldn't she? It was an unfair situation.

There's a pang of guilt at that thought. ]

You... You didn't deserve to die. You're not "bad." Anyone who heard what you just told me would say that. [ he picks his words with some uncertainty - it's a thin line between comforting and patronizing - and rests a hand on her shoulder. ] ... Is she going to come after you again?