Koumyou gives Devero's lower hand a squeeze, but his gaze stays on Buttercup. Just... assessing the quietness she's donned like a shroud. Or a mask, with those blank eyes.

Hiding inside her own skin. Some sort of meditation?

After a moment, he takes his hand back so that he can reach up his sleeve for his long pipe and a bit of tobacco.

Preparing the bowl as he speaks, he voices another thought.

"You know, I myself have killed... easily thousands. Mostly strangers, mostly people who had it coming. But not all, I think. Some were just in my way."

Pipe set up, he lights it with a tap of a fingertip and lifts it to take a drag.

"And I really don't feel much of anything about that."