[He doesn't know what Garret has in mind for the end of that sentence but things his own mind supplies are less than flattering.]
It's pretty easy. You know. I died young, everyone thought I was a deadbeat walkout, my family and my murderer aren't speaking my name, who knows where he buried me, everyone who might have known me otherwise dies out over time... ninety six years later and there you have it. No one left alive to remember me. Honestly, it's kind of a miracle I got that far along.
But, no. I'm not going to fade away here to my knowledge. You remember last time? I was here with poisoning damage and all that? Well, back home, that killed me. Something about Hell is like...a limbo. I'm held together just enough to be here. That's my guess at least.
[everyone thought I was a deadbeat. Ah. And just like that, Garrett's "stab on sight" list gains another name. It takes a special kind of bastard to kill someone in the fucking afterlife, too.]
So I'm guessing that there's nothing anyone can do to hold you together a little more.
[They knew him when he was alive. Sort of...? Shit, was he even alive? Would it even matter?]
I don't think so. It doesn't feel like anything's different here, even with people knowing me. This is technically a realm of the dead and it's not really connected to the living world, my world.
It's alright. I'm not getting better but I'm not getting worse. I think I'm going to stick around Hell.
[At least for a while. Unless he decides oblivion is better. But, he has the sense not to say that.]
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It's pretty easy. You know. I died young, everyone thought I was a deadbeat walkout, my family and my murderer aren't speaking my name, who knows where he buried me, everyone who might have known me otherwise dies out over time... ninety six years later and there you have it. No one left alive to remember me. Honestly, it's kind of a miracle I got that far along.
But, no. I'm not going to fade away here to my knowledge. You remember last time? I was here with poisoning damage and all that? Well, back home, that killed me. Something about Hell is like...a limbo. I'm held together just enough to be here. That's my guess at least.
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So I'm guessing that there's nothing anyone can do to hold you together a little more.
[They knew him when he was alive. Sort of...? Shit, was he even alive? Would it even matter?]
no subject
It's alright. I'm not getting better but I'm not getting worse. I think I'm going to stick around Hell.
[At least for a while. Unless he decides oblivion is better. But, he has the sense not to say that.]
Might as well, right? I've even got a house here.
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[he's so fucking glad for something to talk about that doesn't cause a distant screaming sound in his head.]
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