[He narrows his eyes. The tone geared against his pride like an iron file. He sits down.]

How likely is it that sitting down spelled our grim end? Have the papers always been around or is this a special occasion of clisterfuck chaos.

[He might as well get what information he can. If he’s going to die pointlessly he can revive and use that information for later. He could save this person and still die pointlessly. It would just take effort to achieve.]

What even is that damn flesh horror.