"Probably with everyone dead," was Alex's guess. They were at war. If their own stupidity didn't get them all killed, it would be a miracle. Then what if they survived? What would it be like to live with it?
Alex could feel Damon's sharp eyes looking back at him, but he remained focused on his task for now, his brows knitted in determined lines. "I don't even know what love is," he admitted. Engagements, marriages, relationships, all of that was Greek to him. If there was one thing Alex didn't mind, it was embracing his youth for what it was.
"Life is drama," he said. "You won't escape it by trying to run from it."
A final stitch from the suture saw Alex finally tying it shut, then snipping off the excess with his shears. He gave a shrug. "I like wearing a uniform," as his answer. He never got into to help people, but he ended up loving that part of the job, too. Alex loved being in a position of leadership and authority, though, and this seemed to be a good calling for him.