[ There is no sensation. It had gone back and forth at the time, when he was turning and turning back over and over, and he could feel there for three hours a day. It's- he isn't going to pretend it's not still weird, but it's- he's used to it now, and he can only feel there in nightmares. It being fixed would probably seem fucking scary at this point. ]

Dying has never frightened me.

[ That's- as good a place as any to start. ]

It still doesn't, save for what it would do to the two of you. But- shit, I was starting to think I'd have thirty left in me, give or take. Take, probably. I mean-

[ The alcohol, the years of malnourishment, the near constant habit of getting stabbed with things - he's taken a lot of years off his life already with some truly stupid shit. ]

-but fuck. That was all gone. In an instant. Because I fucked up. And I wasn't scared, but I was- sorry. Sorry that I'd led you both into a stupid fucking trap. That you'd have to do this all without me.

[ There's more, of course there's more. But he has to start somewhere, and the bite is the most sensible place to begin. ]