"H-heh… apparently, you can still see with those… saggy eyes of yours."
"Barely. All I see is a bright red. Though I can still tell that you're just gawking there and not helping, so get to it…"
It had to be done, one way or another, the converse must go on. To linger here while stalling for time to come up with a better excuse—a better excuse to steel himself before the woman whose skull was split. Hence, kindling the conversation between him and her was the crucial step to take to move forward towards her,
"…please, I barely am able to endure this pain much longer."
Because if she stopped uttering even a single word, he might have to run away in horror. But why would he do so? The death of that feather-haired woman – wasn't it always his goal? But whose goal exactly was it? Why would he be willing to lend a hand to her? And that newly born, floating beast was still there above; he could just submit himself to it to be killed. But somehow… he thought it wasn't the time yet?
