[When that hand slows, he suddenly feels the urge to get up and run, hide, disappear if he could. Maybe the blankets would swallow him whole but that's ridiculous, and impossible. Moreso than grim reapers and demons.]

None of them are as interesting. [His voice stays soft.] Nearly as kind, maybe, but not as interesting. Nor as caring as you have been. They don't know me like you do. And I doubt most would care as much, knowing how much I've lied. How much I still lie.