[ Jaime is comfortable with the idea of his own death. That's been made abundantly clear throughout this conversation, through the remove with which he's able to see it, less horrified than he ought to be at the idea of Khaji steering his corpse around, at being dead in the first place, at having others know him as dead. But this - this gets to him. He swallows, paling a little as he imagines Khaji in that awful position, wonders at what his friend must have been thinking, at not getting even the possibility of finding a new host or detaching himself from Jaime altogether as he should, as Jaime's always known that Khaji eventually would.
His own death, he can accept. And he can accept worlds in which Khaji never awakened as well, knowing how poorly things could have gone. But to have someone kill Khaji while he's still cognizant, still innocent? That puts a bolt of nausea through his gut. ]
So you killed... Khaji asked you to kill him? He never even tried to detach himself from me?
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His own death, he can accept. And he can accept worlds in which Khaji never awakened as well, knowing how poorly things could have gone. But to have someone kill Khaji while he's still cognizant, still innocent? That puts a bolt of nausea through his gut. ]
So you killed... Khaji asked you to kill him? He never even tried to detach himself from me?