"Yes, it felt fear. And what you saw when you killed it? That wasn't fear. That was a biological process. Its blood pressure shot up, its body released a combination of adrenaline and endorphins, its brain was suddenly aware of everything," he explains. "It happens to everyone and everything that sees their deaths coming. And you can't avoid it. The only way to avoid it is the probial bullet marked 'occupant'."

He shakes his head, and draws a breath. This next bit isn't going to be easy to say. It's hard for anyone, let alone a guy with no social skills. "I can't make you feel better about killing," he says. "Nothing can, sort of sociopathy. Nor can I tell you it didn't have a soul. EVERYTHING has a soul. I know that better than most. But what I can tell you is that it doesn't make you an awful person. People throughout the galaxy have tried to romanticize life, the right to life, the sanctity of life."

He leans back against his work bench, keeping his eye fixated on Rob's. "That's bunk, by the way. Life is important, yes. But it is not holy, and it is no irrevocably sacred. Life is fragile, and it starts and ends every day. What you did is what happens every day in some measure or another, and you're not better than it. It's happened since the dawn of time, and it will keep happening right up until eternity comes to an end. That bunny? Like it or not, it would have died sooner or later. Its guide is leading it to the great beyond as we speak. Or it may already be there. The point is... yes, it had a soul, and no, killing it doesn't make you a bad person."

He straightens up a bit and points at him. "You wouldn't be having such turmoil in you if you were a bad person," he explained. "You wouldn't CARE."