Is this worse? To give the man hope, a sudden soft light, and end it anyway? He clings to Daniel, confused, euphoric, pained. Resignation is too complex a thought for how startled he is, unable to really process what's happening until his heart is pumping too slowly for the thoughts to make it all the way to his brain.

Louis wanted to know if he considered the life of the rabbit. Vegan bait. Throwing paint on classic works of art, reminding you cows are nice. Stupid. You don't have the rabbit's life beamed into your brain when you cut it.

The man dies and Daniel is sated. Maybe he had skipped a meal. Something bloody, a sick crack, puncturing a lung to disrupt buoyancy. Then an easy lift, a shuffle, a shove, a splash. He runs a hand over his mouth before leaning down to rinse them off— one thing to eat a stranger who smelled like sweat and sadness, another to risk tasting public NYC water. The real horror.

So.

He turns around. Eyebrows up.

"Any notes?"