It was a poor guest who threw up all over a person's clean floor, but Zelgadis was feeling less and less capable of not doing just that the more he probed. Fist clenched again, it drew to his face, uncurling and pinching at the bridge of his nose.

The blue demon with all the elemental powers, he said. That was you right? But the grandpa killed him.

The dead part he'd gleaned to some degree already, given Terra, but...Should he be thankful he was offed by a familiar face? It was one thing to say, but quite another to deal with.

It really was all his fault, wasn't it? Him and his stupid decisions, one after the other – the endless domino effect that was his life choices. If he knew what the hell dominoes were, anyhow. But if he did, that's what he'd consider it.

Geddoe's lack of detail only gave Zel's imagination room to roam to terrible conclusions. Dead isn't just dead, and fights aren't just fights...

His nose was starting to hurt. Enough of that. His hand dropped with a dull sound onto the chair.

"I shouldn't have gone at all," he muttered bitterly.