"In my homelands they called me many things. The False Prophet, Cain, The Exiled Wanderer. You and I share more similarities than you think - names branded upon us as derogatory titles born of their fear. My name is Lucien Farcòn, Irina Eliza Scarlette. And I've heard a lot about you from the locals. Those eyes... Yes, I've seen them before. I need only look into a mirror to remind myself of what those eyes are. What we both hold inside of them." He never once shifts from his stance or tone, not feigning a smile neither like Irina did. Lucien continued to talk as his hands remained poised over his arsenal. "Whether this encounter ends in death is entirely up to you. But make no mistake... I see a demon in your eyes, Vileblood. We are but two monsters standing on a plain of corpses. Did you know? Demons cannot be killed. They can only be devoured, adding to another monster's sinful powers. Atonement is a painful thing indeed. So feed me your sins." The man never once loses his composure and continues to stare at the woman through his mask.