Two Rivers Isle And in faith, he leapt.

Cry had turned an ear to the brunette brute who had politely excused himself, not fully pulling himself away from the stare of the sunset. It was pulling through the trees with surprising swiftness, and Cry almost laughed. It wasn’t as if the Phantom was going through mania by any means; he just was enjoying himself at the moment. Just was a good day. Well, for him.

More or less, he wasn’t intending to open his mouth to converse, but aptly they flew, words and all, baritoning to the man with those memorable heated topazes. ”Ever feel like you’ve gotten to that level of ‘Damn, this is too much shit for one man, but I’m just okay with it?’” Cry wasn’t going to spill his whole life story to a stranger, but strangely enough, the Assassin was in a talkative mood for once. This random guy was going to get something no others had ever gotten from the ex-Nightmare. An actual willingness to converse. 

But why? Cry was actually at peace. He had found a home, gotten the girl of his dreams, and left behind his life of murder for hire. He didn’t have to rely on others for them to survive.