"Shit," he says again, feeling old all over again. He shouldn't, but it isn't helped by, "The average wolf lives five to ten years after being turned. I'm ancient for lycanthropes. Now I feel old for a human, too."
He shrugs. "It's how things go. I'm glad to still be alive. I'm glad I graduated so I could keep living. But that doesn't make life more certain. I feel good about how I live my life."
"How is it at 23?" A wry smile, offering him a way to deflect. "I was an asshole at 23. Alcoholic, just starting out in my career and sure I already knew more than any senior partner."
"Oh I will. And when I'm bored, and when I can't sleep, and when I want an opinion on dinner, and when I have beer for you." A smirk. "You'll see plenty of me, Belmont."
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"Uh. Well. I think probably....Somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-four."
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"You'd probably be dead in my world, too. Human or lycanthrope."
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Do you?
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"At 52, I should hope you like living."
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"I'm not alive anymore, so it's kind of a dead point? It's all right. Better than undeath, I'd imagine."
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"If there is, I'm sure you'll come find me."
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"Old man."