Equal? [He actually raises his head when Hanzo says that. He can feel the laugh bubbling up in his chest. Rising in old, dead lungs, rattling along the bones within the cavity before rising up and out of him in a dry, loud cackle. Smoke rises from behind his mask as he looses the sound to the air, head tilted back as a hand moves to press against his own chest--as if the laugh had taken something out of him. Air, if a dead man even needed it, or perhaps he'd even made himself dizzy by the sheer force of it.]

You lost any sort of equal footing with the man on a personal level the minute you first cut into him with your blade.

Don't put me on your level. I might be the terrorist here, Shimada...

[His hand falls back down to sit idle at his side.]

...but at least I've never put a bullet in someone I consider family.