He doesn't want to talk about this. He wants to talk about anything but this.

"I think everyone has someone that does that. Just most people are less... violent." He stares at his cup a moment before picking it up to take a scalding sip. "That wasn't the hard part of it all for me."

It was, that's a lie, but it wasn't the only hard part. And somehow talking about his death at the Halloween party is still more appealing than traipsing down this particular primrose path. A twist of guilt jabs at him, but he still changes the subject. Tangents it, at the very least.

"Did you get out of the party okay? The... dream party, I guess."