Sinric sighs sadly, feeling as if his heart is laid open, his chest peeled back along the line he just touched and his innermost parts spread for all to see. He stares at the mirror as if seeing it, his skin flayed back and his still-beating heart the colour of Hannibal's eyes.

"I was Constatine's first. Above his wife, above his sons. That should have been enough for me. Sometimes I feel as if I will never be loved that way again. Never be more than-" He huffs a bitter laugh, looking away from his own dissection, "Sloppy seconds."