Daniel shifted, leaning back against the wall. He felt weak, sick to his stomach, and he wanted to seek out Dylan already. He wanted to blame the latter on some kind of magic, but he suspected it was less these damned god like powers he had and more Daniel's own hungers and desires.

Except they came with the rest. With being fed on like a fucking human nutrition drink and being turned into a girl, and being forced to kill. Even if he wasn't still dead.

"Maybe he hadn't ever been," he muttered. "Illusions. It could just be an illusion," he said, obviously trying to convince himself. "I could do an illusion like that."

Except one thing.

He lifted the bullet, looking at it. It was crumpled, the head of it split from hitting bone. It showed flecks of blood. Maybe Dylan had gotten a spent bullet. Maybe he had fired at an animal. Some here hunted, after all. Maybe...

Maybe Daniel had shot a man who, maybe an hour later, he had sucked off after being fucked like a groupie at a rock concert.

That was all it took, diving for the waste bin, puking.