[ For once, Jaime doesn't bother arguing. She's right. He doesn't think that she should bear guilt for doing what had to be done, what Jaime himself would have asked another to do, for something she did as a child, but it's aligned with his worldview. You're as responsible for what you did nothing to prevent or what you indirectly affected as you are for going in and intervening directly. This belief's brought him nothing but grief, but he abides by it nonetheless.

Maybe he'd lie if she didn't have empathy. He's not sure. All he knows is that if he tells her any variety of empty words, she'll know.

(He is still, abstractly, relieved that it wasn't her hands that did the deed.) ]

Good. I know it doesn't - I know you still feel responsible for it, but I'm glad you're not the one that did it. [ She was too young for that. Too young to ask for another to kill the empty shell of her friend too, but he'll take small mercies where he can. ]

...Do you regret it?