Not in the same way this place denied me, but still as egregious. [nehan sighs and waves his hand, more comfortable with his paleblood magic now than when they last met, the greys of the store and the man on the floor fading away. in its place, a curtained-off bed in a room of neutrals and pastels comes into view. everything is softer here, compared to harshness of the bustling market.

the bed is empty, but there's no mistaking what it's used for.]

I was told that just minutes after I was shot, those that I knew who were not of the mafia found me, and they brought me to a healer. But I refused to wake.

[then he points to that bed.]

I spent fifteen months in that bed you see now, dead to the world, and I woke in the form I am right now.