        Thomas cut Rarity off, throwing the bottle of bourbon at the wall about ten feet from the mare. “NO! You can’t fix it, I can’t fix it. No one can fix it! It’s done with, over! I’d watched friends die back home, shot on the street or shot up on drugs. This place was suppose to be different. No senseless deaths, no one killing each other. You’re straight out of a goddamn fantasy for fuck’s sake! You can fly, you can use magic, so why the fuck do you still die?”