Pyotr throws him a withering look. "It really not obvious? Then let me say it plainly: I want to die," he mutters beneath an icy glare. "I want to feel my soul shatter and fade into nothingness. But since that's impossible I might as well soothe myself by drawing as near to it as possible, no? I'd have thought a member of the undead would understand. Don't you remember the moment when your heart began to race, as if it could keep beating through inertia alone? But then it stilled, and everything faded to blackness. Or perhaps you haven't had that pleasure after all?" He sneers.