Justice
The rider only had the right to speak of himself, but if she wanted to listen, then he hoped it could help her. So he pulled his scarf down, exposing his face, clearing the shadows over his eyes, and spoke his mind.
"I'm not proud of it, but I can only try to be better within its confines. It's not something I can just cut away." He scoffed, a sound lighter than any of his interjections. "I don't think I'm a good person, don't get me wrong. I've risked my life to protect the world, and slain more than I can care to count in the process. And I enjoyed that part, but it's not why I do it."
They always had a call to make, no matter how wretched their self, of why they performed their actions. They could choose what do with their needs and their thrills.