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Closing his eyes again, Dreggan answered the monk:
"Matt, your views about life don't bother me. I guess it was just your extension of your worthwhile values to these wretched, servile wastes of human life that caused me to get, ah, slightly miffed just then. It was more confusion than hate that I was feeling towards you at that point. However, I'm over it now. It's in the past, so let's not relive it."
Dreggan then opened his dark eyes and fixed his gaze sternly into Matt's.
"Just remember one thing: the Poison Fist Guild place no value on life other than gold. They would kill any type of creature on this world, even women and children, if the price is right, so please do me a favour: suspend your goodwill towards this vermin. If we encounter them again, which is most likely, let me deal with them my own way. Even giving them a decent burial is a courtesy they should not be afforded. They should rot as they did not live: in full view of everyone."
Dreggan realized that he was clenching his fists as he was talking. He felt his blood run hot through his veins and feared that he would once again lose his quintessential cool. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and turned away from the monk.
"Go back to sleep, Matt. Good guys like you have a lot of work to do in this world. You must be very tired."
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A plan is just a list of things that don't happen.
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