[ Flynn doesn't exactly know how to answer that question when the answer is all of it, but, well. ]

I—well, honestly? How easily it could happen again. That it happened at all. That death is so impermanent here, and that it's still so senseless. How... weak I feel, that I was so easy to kill.

[ The words come tumbling out, and Flynn glances away, flushing and a bit tight-throated in a way he wouldn't normally be. He feels fragile, like he might crack if touched too swiftly. It's an awful feeling. ]

What is to stop the same thing happening again? Why does the person who killed me seem to feel no remorse? Why has he chosen to ask me to answer that question?