[She comes closer and Rex's brows press together with guilt, as the honest answer to that question is more than a little fucked up. How can he be so calm after killing people? Well, simply because it's not the first time.

He had, in that moment, remembered a real murder, similar, that he had committed as a child. His own fingers had reached out and accidentally touched a pair of square, gold-rimmed glasses, which then abruptly burst with a chaotic release of energy, leaving nothing but a headless corpse.

The explosive hothead frowns.]

I don't think it was anyone with a number.

[He attempts to focus on the harsh-tongued young woman in front of him, who he determines isn't from home.]

'Cause after a while, they disappeared. Or, um, became part of the, uh.

Dark.