[His brows furrow. There's a lot of questions, naturally, but the thought of using his scratchy voice deters him from speaking. He's not sure where or how to start with his hands. It's almost like they still thrum with the energy of changing, of being claws.
Breathily, he sighs.] You--
--helped. [Thinking back on it is strange. Surreal. If he wasn't so messed up today, he would've thought it had been a dream.] Your hands were like fire. Light. [Is this how... Man-Bat felt? To change?]
It felt--familiar. [He glances up slowly.] The same as when I died. [He shakes his head--no. He already felt how he did when he died, fighting the Bogeyman. A Heretic shape, impaling him again on a sword.] The same as when I came back.
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Breathily, he sighs.] You--
--helped. [Thinking back on it is strange. Surreal. If he wasn't so messed up today, he would've thought it had been a dream.] Your hands were like fire. Light. [Is this how... Man-Bat felt? To change?]
It felt--familiar. [He glances up slowly.] The same as when I died. [He shakes his head--no. He already felt how he did when he died, fighting the Bogeyman. A Heretic shape, impaling him again on a sword.] The same as when I came back.