So goddamn stubborn. He levels her a look at the rather terrible joke, a semblance of sternness behind his otherwise empty (glassy?) gaze.

"There’s nothing else I could tell her besides regret," he starts as he tilts his head- his black hair hanging off in its wet oily mess of being laced in sweat after a stressful battle for his life.

Turn on pain sensors?

"Teenagers," he shook his head as he sighs and pretends he doesn't say yes to that command.

Then hisses in pain as the wounds he subjected on himself with his rage paired with his fight with Fatalis finally course through his veins.

"Tch. Damn, my back..." Even if the hiss he let out pertained to far more. That his body wasn't screaming at him or how he found himself relaxing against the wall to hold his barely held together visage.

He digs into his coat and pulls out a decanter.