[Char huffs softly, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and weariness. He turns his gaze out toward the garish lights of the park, their reflections spilling across the water in fractured ribbons. When he speaks, his voice is low and even, without the mask of showmanship he's carried for so long.]

Goodbyes have never suited me. I've said too many of them already, and never well.

[His eyes flick back to Lovecraft, steady and deep.]

It would have been easier to disappear without a word, but I'm turning over a new leaf. So I've convinced myself, anyway.