Kuja watches the woman twist and wail, interested, but not worried. Kuja knows anger, too well. Her own anger is what worries her, but she feels only a shadow of that gripping, unreasoning fury now when she thinks of him. It is but a ghost of once (and possibly future) madness, still haunting her, like her memories. She destroyed him. She regrets many things, but not that. She would destroy him again, if she could, to make him suffer more.

When Zinc pushes up against her, she might become aware of two things: Kuja has no appreciable body heat, and no noticeable scent.

It's an unexpected gesture. Kuja turns to regard her--not angrily, but with eyes devoid of visible emotion. She's not used to such treatment. Back home, no one would have dared approach her in such a manner, certainly not uninvited. After a moment, she steps lightly away. "That's not proper manners, is it?" There's a gentle irony in her tone.