"And what after that? When he's dead? I've heard things like that, and it never gets you where you want to be." He'd helped kill a bad man once. It had taken everything from him.

Bobo's head cants, frowning because for a moment, those words don't seem right to him. How can they when even in Purgatory now, there is still more guns than cars it seems. "None? At all?" He makes a sound, disgust etching his face. "Gonna tell me no blades either?"

He smirks then, because he hadn't given it though he'd considered it. Mostly because he had a choice here. No one knew the demon he had been, and he could recreate himself as Robert Svane without a second thought. Except that isn't the man he is.

"Bobo. Bobo Del Rey."