Sunset Valley no retreat from the world can mask what is in your face

he sighs softly, blinking as his vision slowly clears. his gaze softens at absynthe's expression, but there is still something listless and melancholy in his face. "you shouldn't," he tells him, mouth dry. "you should hate me. you should want me dead." his throat aches suddenly, and he turns away. it isn't fair. he just wants it to be fair, for once — he wants to get what he deserves.