The Weeper seized upon the words of his fellow human with an eager excitement barely displayed under fabric, something he paused a moment to consider sagely. He stood somewhat straighter then and let his thoughts fly to each word with a rapid but intense exploration of the wonderful music of oration. It would have seemed a slightly uncomfortable pause in a normal conversation, but such a pause was necessary to The Weeper and he did not lament it.

“You are right. To die here would be as if you fell as a single raindrop into the sea, your passing would be like your very existence, meagre and unimportant.” He sounded oddly happy about such a dire observation.

Then, The Weeper made another huge leap in conversation, going so far as to ask Mikael a question, something one may consider unprecedented. 

“Are you afraid to die?” The Weeper asked ominously, taking one step forward, intending to walk closer to the man. He could have drawn his pistol and fired right then and there, but the sword wouldn’t allow it, or so he told himself. Perhaps there was more to it, perhaps some small part of the man The Weeper once was wanted to give this young man the chance he deserved. Perhaps The Weeper sought his own end.