[Speak for yourself, Connor. There's a flash of something pointedly unamused and flinted carving down along the ridges of Gabe's features, distorting them into a blaze of spite. He lived. He lived, and he can't die. Gabe - Gabe never got to live. Now he gets this, and it isn't even really life at all.]
[What the hell's he supposed to take away from that?]
no subject
[What the hell's he supposed to take away from that?]
What do you mean, you can't die?