[ His eyebrows just lift at her pointed expression. He continues to smile despite the quiet accusation of him being a "bad person." It certainly doesn't bother him, because he is fully aware that he's a terrible person. But who says a person can't be terrible, aware of their own awfulness, and still like themselves? ]

You think you're a rotten person? Why's that, sweetie? What you've told me ain't all that bad. You're thinking of how to keep living to the next day. Does that really make a person a terrible? [ In his mind? No. It's more the insides that he's curious about; the reasons for why they do things; their motivations and hopes and dreams as they ruin those around them. ]

Not once? So how can you be a rotten person? I've taken quite a few lives, Eponine-dearie. [ He keeps on smiling. ] Even if she's bigger and stronger than you, you still were able to make sure she suffered for causing you trouble, right?

Lots of ways to kill a person with just your hands. [ His own hand drops to gently run his fingers along her pretty neck, before his touch returns to her swollen face. ] But if you ain't got the drive for it, you'll end up getting killed instead. And I think that'd be a crying shame.