For once, Gene remained silent while Diva spoke, taking in her story with a stony expression. There'd been a reason he hated Amshel more than the vampire, no matter how much death Diva wrought. If it weren't for that bastard, maybe the broad would have turned out decently. Or at least more like a normal bird than she had.

Knowing the sort of pain she'd gone through didn't make up for the deaths she'd caused, though, and while Gene now had a better sense of what Diva physically felt, it didn't mean shit if she didn't understand how others did.

"That's not what I meant, luv," he finally offered, pulling out a fag and lighting it with a flick of his wrist, slipping the zippo back into his pocket a moment later. "You hurt when I shot you. You have any idea how much it hurt those blokes you offed? You feel anything at all when you killed 'em, or is it still just a game to you?"