Grief and anger have always lived too close to one another for Wrench's liking. He tries his best to avoid them both, though sometimes it seems like he has it out for all the emotions. Happiness can make you complacent, but anger can make you sloppy. It's better not to question why things happen at all. It's better just to ride the whims of fate like a current you know you can't change. And maybe he'd remember that a little better if he hadn't just spent the last 800 years playing at being a God, or whatever the hell that was.

Wrench is staring out across the lake, watching the candlelight dance and flicker and break across the surface of the inky water. He's not exactly startled by the other man's approach, but he is surprised. The realization of how far he's been in his own little world makes his face go hard, and he turns on the stranger with a little more intent than necessary.

I'm Deaf, he signs it so quickly and so sharply he can really only intend to make a point. Thankfully, Wrench seems to realize it's all a lot coming from the 6'4" silent man, and he relents just enough to switch to brain texting.

We haven't met. Did you know Nero?