“Hey,” Grifter says as you walk in to his room. He’s sitting at a desk, cleaning and polishing his guns to perfection.

“Your mind’s been busy. Look, you asked me not to read your mind, but I can’t stand seeing you like this. Brings the mood down and makes it hard to do anything.”

He finally looks at you. “I know how you feel, kinda. I know how it feels to be someone you don’t want to be, to be someone other than yourself. I hate myself and who I am. I hate my powers. The worst part about it, though? I hated not having anyone to talk to about it. I don’t want you to be in the same boat as I was. So go on, talk to me.”