[For Rex, it is not difficult to convince him that this is all a ruse. He's been suffering from paranoia for weeks, and all the tell-tale signs that this cushy gig was too good to be true were right in front of him. There had been that picture in his phone, leftover from his real whatever-it-is-ship with this dumbass, and all the memories that didn't make sense. The ones he couldn't sort. Because someone, or rather, some thing, had planted them there. His first instinct is to resort to violence and rage but for now there is a warm body in front of him, a welcome distraction from an unshakeable truth.

That this life, that hard work, has never really cut it for this so-called Rex Splode. No matter what he does, it will not be good enough, he will never be the best or possess the love and respect he so deeply desires. He must ruin it always, as it will constantly be twisted by some deep, all-consuming hatred for himself.]

Is that supposed to be some kind of pick-up line? If you wanna get in my lap right about now, juuuuust go for it! Climb on top of me, make a scene! And if any of those hoity-toity butt-heads [he means butlers??? rex they are WAIT STAFF, SERVERS, NOT BUTLERS SMH] wants to chew us out? They can suck. My. Dick.

[He snorts, the mirth in his tone growing more noticeable with every new word.]

Superhero?

If I'm some big damn superhero, then why is the realest thing that I'm feelin' right now just...

[He should reach out. Touch the other boy.

But instead, Rex leans back in his chair, idly eyeing the expanding darkness from the corners of his eyes, not particularly frightened. He recalls another teeny factoid from the recesses of his suppressed consciousness- That for whatever reason, he is unafraid of the dark.]

Shit.

I feel like shit. I feel like shit all the damn time!

I know that. It's not this place.

It's a part of who I am. And... Maybe it's all I'll ever be.