"You're right, we probably shouldn't be." He doesn't know Rosinante's life. "And I'm sure we're not."
Gregor takes another drink. He hasn't had that much, it's not getting to him already, is it? He sighs.
"I've already explained my stance on the matter, but for simplicity's sake: I'm one of the bad ones. He isn't. Whatever I deserve, he doesn't." He pinches the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling his years more than usual. Does death always make him this introspective? It's annoying.
"So I don't know how I'd react if I met him here. It's hard not to think of this place as an afterlife, isn't it? Maybe not for you, but what else is it? It's hard not to think of this as something deserved, especially now that I've been here twice. Though clearly it's not, because here you are." He gestures to not just Rosinante, but the town as a whole. What few people are left. "I doubt you and I would belong in the same circle of hell."
And just in case that was still too vague (it's possible), he finishes it succinctly: "People like me deserve worse than this, and people like him— like you, probably, deserve better. But there is no order to the universe, and so here we are." He takes a long draw off his cigarette. "And I don't know how I feel about that."
no subject
"You're right, we probably shouldn't be." He doesn't know Rosinante's life. "And I'm sure we're not."
Gregor takes another drink. He hasn't had that much, it's not getting to him already, is it? He sighs.
"I've already explained my stance on the matter, but for simplicity's sake: I'm one of the bad ones. He isn't. Whatever I deserve, he doesn't." He pinches the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling his years more than usual. Does death always make him this introspective? It's annoying.
"So I don't know how I'd react if I met him here. It's hard not to think of this place as an afterlife, isn't it? Maybe not for you, but what else is it? It's hard not to think of this as something deserved, especially now that I've been here twice. Though clearly it's not, because here you are." He gestures to not just Rosinante, but the town as a whole. What few people are left. "I doubt you and I would belong in the same circle of hell."
And just in case that was still too vague (it's possible), he finishes it succinctly: "People like me deserve worse than this, and people like him— like you, probably, deserve better. But there is no order to the universe, and so here we are." He takes a long draw off his cigarette. "And I don't know how I feel about that."