He is disgusted.

As a monk, Lee Sin's whole life has been dedicated to finding peace. He has given everything, even the use of his very eyes, in an attempt to keep the people of Valoran from slaughtering each other. His is a life of servitude, of trying to stop mindless violence and chaos.

And when he sees her, he is disgusted. Disgusted by her carefree, psychotic attitude towards the destruction she causes. With her bombs and her rockets she terrorizes Piltover, disregarding any harm she does. Does she not think there are any casualties? Can she honestly believe that nobody will die from buildings exploding, debris falling, and fires raging around? Or is she under the impression that they will simply revive, as champions do in the arena?

Lee Sin does not believe in senseless violence. While he does fight, he fights with his hands, close and personal. He feels his opponent, hears them, and over the course of any of his battles, tries to know them better than they can know themselves. Then, when he kills them, he prays for each soul as it makes its way to the next life. Even in the arena, as he kills his fellow champions, the ritual continues. He knows they have not truly lost their life; but he also knows that as soon as he starts to take any life for granted, his life's work will be undone. First, he will disregard his fellow champion's lives in the arena. Then his enemies lives, when war inevitably hits again. Then the lives of his own men as he leads them. And he will become just like the people he sacrificed his eyes to stop.

He's seen the devastation of war. He's seen the innocent civilians on both sides cut down in the haste to take a city or fortress. He knows the sounds of screams as men, women, and children burn along with their houses, felt the earth quake and moan under the strain of the heavy magic being thrown about. The chemical and biological warfare that left some dead, and some wishing they were. That is why he protested. That is why he no longer has his eyes; he would rather be blind than experience the wretched evil of war any longer.

He sees her. Without the use of his eyes, and with some of the magical skills left from when he was a summoner, he can see into her very heart. He knows the blackness that surrounds her like a plague. He hears her laugh when proud structures come crashing to the ground, and can almost see the gleam in her eyes. She listens to no one; she cannot be controlled or ruled. The chaos in her mind has created chaos through her hands. And as much as he tries, he cannot rid himself of this loathing, this hatred, this disgust for one so careless.

He is disgusted by her.

She is apathetic.

Jinx loves destruction. The crashing of buildings, the thrill of the chase, fills her with adrenaline. And she's addicted to adrenaline. Even if Pow-Pow never gets into it, she can't help but love the anarchy. The bliss of having the fire from your own bombs rush past you as the shockwave pushes you away is the closest thing to euphoria she can describe.

She cannot understand him. He speaks of peace, then fights in the arena. He cannot see, yet his attacks hit with unparalleled precision. Once a man who trained to be a summoner, now never seen using magic. The story of a man who set himself on fire to stop a war.

First of all, why would you want to stop a war? She often wishes she was not so young that she cannot remember the Great Rune Wars. To her, they sound absolutely amazing; an excuse to create and use all the weapons, rockets, explosives, and guns she can without reprimand. Sure, she likes it when Big Hands chases her around; it adds to the excitement. But to have free reign to attack your enemy's cities as needed… well, she knows that would be fun.

Instead, however, this man set himself on fire in trying to protest and stop the war. The monk even lost the use of his eyes, obviously the most useful sense of them all. And she cannot understand what would prompt him to do such a thing.

She has seen his rituals in the league. The way he prays for every minion, monster, and champion he kills. She laughed at him; nobody was even dying. And even if they were, they're dead. Praying over a corpse isn't going to do any good for anyone, you'll just open yourself up to be killed by someone more observant.

There are times, occasionally, when she does get his attention. The monk turns in her direction, and even without his eyes, she can feel him looking right through her. It's as if the door to her soul is opened, and he can sift through at will. It unnerves her more than she'd ever admit, and she has made it a point to attack and taunt from afar. Easier to kill when your enemy doesn't know your heart.

She supposes if she cared a bit more, this man would bother her. That his rituals and morals would irk her sense of freedom, that his unseeing eyes can fill her with such anxiety when he turns them her way. But the truth is, she doesn't and cannot make herself care.

She is apathetic.