Justice
He took a deep breath, and his chest rumbled like a furnace. So that's what she meant, he thought as he let go of Pity and straightened up, not breaking eye contact. This was likely the part where he was supposed to draw his sword and stare meaningfully into his own reflection (he finally could, now that it was so well polished) while saying something poetic, but he sucked at that.
"A dark and personal question," Justice began, nodding. "But I do. Shedding blood in battle is a natural thrill for me. It's simple, but complicated to live with. Does the concept trouble you?"
She wasn't asking such a specific question merely out of curiosity. Maybe meeting someone nostalgic, who was like a colleague, had made her want to open up. Conversely, Justice didn't make a habit of explaining it. The last time he'd been pressed about this, it was a taunt, but now it was a vulnerable, small inquiry.