He grips the scythe tightly, his gaze lingering on he more intensely than before. He doesn't really remember what happened last week very well. Half of him is just ready to swing at her and be done with it, and the other half is just...tired.

So many nights were like being asleep: caught up in a dream were full control of his actions ever eluded his grasp.

"You couldn't know," he growls softly, raising his scythe.