"To be fair, we aren't talking about everyone." He elbows her gently, unwilling to let her be the one to bring down the room. That's his job, after all. He's already told her how he feels about her actions during the Battle Royale, however, so he refrains from that point for now.

"I don't know him, obviously," because she hasn't said his name, and he's not about to pry, "But I do know plenty of killers. Most of my friends, for example. Most of the sorcerers I arrest." He tilts his head, pausing for a moment before saying, "I'm a killer, too." He doubts she'll be surprised to hear it, but he also doubts she'll ever know the true depth of the statement.

"The difference is always motive. My friends often had to make difficult decisions during wartime. Or they might be caught up in a fight, and the only way to win is to kill. The ones I lock up... well. Killing comes easy to them. They enjoy the simple act of taking life. It's like gardening for them, or knitting. And I don't know about your mystery beau, but I generally don't mind associating with the former while avoiding the latter at all costs."

So, maybe her mysterious potential date to the dance shares a similar view? He's not sure. Morally gray is a hard color to pull off, sometimes.

"I am, obviously, making the wild assumption that you don't murder just for sport." Call it a hunch, but he thinks that's probably not the case.