[Oh no, again? He's turning into goo. His shoulders have already gone slack, and it's getting harder and harder to hold his head up under all of that attention. Even his voice has softened over the minutes, but his lips do manage to quirk a smile.]

You're all such handsome people. What irony that you envied the hair of someone like me. [He'd giggle over it, but he's far to relaxed, soothed by those hands and that brush, to make it happen.]

They would've been eaten by demons. [His grin tightens, for just a second.] Death itself is not unnatural, but what I am is. Grim reapers are necessary, but... Ah, it's a whole bloody mess. Perhaps we shouldn't talk about it.