Hale, still wobbling slightly, looked positively radiant despite the gash in his side and the gunshot wound on his thigh.
"I wanted a nearby spirit to take care of my body after I pass." He gestured vaguely. "I never expected... to be the blessed one. It was fate. A sign that the afterlife is truly not the finite end!"
The cult leader's voice was filled with conviction, the kind of near-delusional belief that only a cult leader could possess. "My life's work... it's all been leading to this moment! At last, I get to witness the miracle with my own eyes!"
Adriel, standing stiffly near the fridge, blinked at Hale's zeal, disbelief slowly morphing into anger.
"Your life's work? You're saying that you've drugged people who seek help dealing with grief your whole life? And you think that's normal?"
