At one point in the ex-commander's life, he wondered if death was the end of one's life. With him taking part in life-threatening risks, like the Omnic Crisis and working in Overwatch as a whole, he felt the need to cherish life, to take care of it as if it were some sort of fragile fine china dinnerware that could break at a simple tap of a finger.

But after he saw the downfall of Overwatch, he faked his death, leaving his family, and always going through a cycle of regeneration and decaying cells that flowed through his body, his paradigm changed. Death wasn't the end of one's life. Death was simply another way of existing. Whether that'd be in one's memories or... Existing and dying rapidly.

Reaper was sitting in the breakroom of Talon, looking down at his hands and seeing hazy smoke linger off them. A sign that he is less than a human being, but rather a ghostly-human-being. Through his mask, he stared deeper at his hands, before he heard footsteps come near. He instinctively looked up from his hands and held onto one of his Hellfire Shotguns. After seeing it was just you, a familiar face, he sighed. "...What do you want?" He muttered, annoyed.