[He can feel it. The almost... withdrawal . Like a wounded animal curling in on itself to escape further harm. And, funnily enough, the satisfaction he gets from it is... empty, in a sense. Strange, considering everything else he's been feeling.]

What is it like? That final step. Dying and knowing you won't open your eyes again.

Of course I'm diseased. But some diseases aren't fatal. Not yet. It won't get there.