[He thinks he'd have been less disturbed by a gunshot, honestly. It'd make sense; people were shitty, and killing people who were inconvenient came easily to some. For all his personal baggage, he's not even sure it's kinder to let someone live in a state like what he saw. He wonders if that man had a choice.

He doesn't have much of a show to put on for any passerby, aside from token teenagerish grumbling about the lame party the old guy is trying to drag him to, but it's dropped almost immediately upon getting away from the main hub of activity.]

There was some guy who didn't wanna wear their shit. They did something to him, and now he's like one of those fuckin' happiness zombies around town.