This version of him isn't perfect. None of them are. New isn't the same as perfect. Growing up isn't inherently loss, it's just change.
Any other iron on you?” he asked impatiently.“Just my tongue stud.”His look was a mixture of curiosity and horror.“I’m kidding, you idiot. Let’s go.
I guess I can't blame him for feeling bitter. Going from being the terror of Bulgarian nights to a janitor would kinda suck
Being dead wasn't supposed to hurt. Where was the fairness in that? If I was dead, the least the universe could do was make it painless
