[Who you look like-- the words go off like a bomb in his head. He knows, he knows he knows he knows heknowsheknowsHEKNOWS! EVERYTHING, down to the abhorrent nature of your life, the sickness, the wrongness. The words strip him down to his base parts, and see them for the cheap knockoff that he is.

Of course. Rafael knows the Real One, so why would he have any need is the fake? That realization hurt more than anything else. That last tether to humanity, already cut.

He hisses in shock and pain, grip tightening on the edge of the roof where he's hidden. His fingers leave grooves in the metal.]

Shut up. What do you know?!