[ Luckily, Six doesn't move in pursuit; instead, he wavers some, and walks/sways a few feet over to a nearby trashbin, which is, thankfully, large and recently emptied. He can feel a bit of his delighted haze fading in a wave of nausea, not the least because of the current trend of his thoughts.

He nods his head, despite it being a poor idea. ]

I've seen...things. Creatures that should've been long since dead, kept alive by dread machinery.

[ His imagination has transitioned from true undead to the ancient, terrible relics of Allag, but it's all the same to him: monstrous, wrong. ]

I almost...pity...nnggh.

[ The inevitable occurs, but at the very least...his back is to Mitchell. ]