While many, him first of all, may argue that he has no heart, for better or worse - mostly the latter - he does. One that has already been in turmoil, all of which now closer to the surface. Red trails on white, a piece of candy slowly rotting. The loneliness of empty nights and days after a loss he can neither accept nor comprehend.

As lashing out is what he tends to hide behind, the pained look of mourning on his face twists back into one of anger, until finally he laughs. Not a happy sound. "What trick is this?! What's the point? Do you want to get beaten?"