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Jared Moore (_semperfidelis) wrote in light_of_may,

For a moment Jared just looked at Laurent, obviously taking the subject into serious consideration before he voiced the one question that kept circling his mind. "But I thought the mind needed sleep. Unless yours doesn't. Or maybe that's only humans." Except he didn't think it was, because if he went without sleep entirely it could really mess him up for around forty-eight hours. He didn't understand why the question was funny, either. Though it could easily have been one of those things that you were just somehow supposed to know. As though being turned downloaded a chunk of information just like that. The answer he got kind of explained it - or it did in his opinion, if only because Laurent was describing what was basically the opposite of Gabriel House. His top lip still tried very hard to curl all the way around his fangs in a defensive gesture at the notion of having them pulled out. "Nice. I get it. There's a definite structure." He could respect that even if he didn't understand parts. It was like respecting another armed force or something. Or he had decided it was because the mafia analogy was getting old. "Which makes us the jerks, right? On paper, at least. Structured jerks." And he was right back to the mafia comparison again, really, with kids in the backrgound somewhere hissing and booing or cheering depending who appeared on stage. Had he ever really taken time out to tell Rae how strange she had made his life?

"I'm a missing person and probably the main suspect in my wife's murder." He shrugged, without a flicker of emotional attachment to the dead woman that Rae had removed before snatching him. "All in all, it's probably better if I don't try. Their loss, though. I'm better with a gun now. Well... a hand gun, at any rate. Haven't tried with any of the others." Plus, he could fly and he would gladly eat the opposition alive in a very literal sense. "Towards the end, I thought we were mad for using them," Jared answered fairly matter-of-factly. "I moved from the regulars to SpecOps with training as an urban sniper. It's a long way from a bayonet, no pun intended. But whatever, alls that happened is war evolved to kill more people faster." Again, he shrugged. "It works." At the expense of far too many soldiers, even those living, but it worked. "That worked with my wife too, actually," his head tilted as he considered it, then his mind hooked back onto the subject of the ex. "Uh, yeah. Would-be homicidal bitch wasn't really my thing." Since she had never laid a hand on one of those guns, had it been loaded she would not have known how to allow for the recoil and would have shot right through him from gut to the top of his head and then right up the wall to the ceiling. From his undead Gabriel perspective, though, it might have been entertaining to see. "Montreal. Right. I have no reason to say that." Did he? No. No, he didn't, and as long as he remembered the name of the damn place and didn't confuse it for, say, Montenegro, then he'd be fine. He was just about to comment on how he could not imagine Rae actually really, genuinely, completely silent unless she was asleep or totally engrossed in a book - but even then she turned pages - when Laurent asked what Jared's mind immediately started referring to as the 'dead question'. "Are you asking if I wanted to die and cease existing or exist in this, uh... limbo with bonuses?" For a moment he cracked an odd sort of smile, then rolled his shoulders. "Wouldn't have said I wanted to stay alive," he answered fairly easily. "Wouldn't have caught me saying that when I had a pulse though, but I'm not exactly the same man. I'd say Rae dropped me on my head, but I had combat stress already. She picked me up the second time I was sent home to recover." Like it was possible after a certain point. Funny how easy it was to talk about being human when you were dead and had largely stopped caring.