[That is a troubling statement, stemming from a troubled mind. That philosophy of life could not be further from the truth from Saint Walker, but he cannot muster up even the slightest feelings of contempt for it; instead he feels pity, pity for those who believe it, pity for the fact that their lives must have been wracked by ruin and despair to get to that point.]

Hobbes, was it? He must have led a very lonely life. As do all who follow that path.

[His head swivels, and he locks his gaze onto Kaine. He cannot see the man's eyes, but that changes very little in his expression.] Then what of great acts done out of love? What of great acts done out of hope?