It’s something that’s hitting a bit too close to home, and though he’d be reticent to admit anything, everything she’s saying is putting him on edge. He’s not a resident of this world, he doesn’t know the ins and outs of how things are managed and controlled, but everything that she’s saying strikes a familiar chord with things back home.

He knows what it’s like to be thrown into things time after time, to be sewn back together and pitched back out to break again and again, it’s plain obvious from the stretches of scar tissue that maps his body, and he’s always prided himself on that. He’s always been a wall, a roach, surviving things that shouldn’t be possible, the entirety of his world up until recently has been focused on how physically strong he could be, and…

Though it’s difficult to come to terms with, he can see it, though he’d like to deny with all his being, Wrath makes sense. If he hadn’t known, if life had apparently continued the way it was supposed to back home, he would have welcomed everything. Fine, implant something in his brain, anything to be stronger, ignore the way it would eat away at him, because as long as it would help, would make him a more effective killing machine, it would have been fine.

Except knowing now what would happen, it wouldn’t have.

“’s fucked up.” Everything is. His apparent future. Her actual past. He gives a heavy sigh, locking his gaze onto her hand.