human
Al:  Al stood over her, and as he looked down, he understood that he found no pleasure in making another person kneel before him. Thinking of what he owed her for that battle against the demon beast four years before, he decided to fill her in. “It’s poison.”
gpt
Hornet:  "Ah… —ison…” The Hornet looked at him, her face a mask of disbelief and pain.
human
Al:  “Got the idea from an old movie. They say poison’s killed more people than any other weapon.”
gpt
Hornet:  “Poi…son…? When did I…take…?”
human
Al:  “I mixed it up right here. Here where they put the bodies.” Shaking his head, Al explained to the Hornet that here in the deepest reaches of the island was where they kept the corpses. He’d mentioned this to Arakiya—the idea that certain spectators with particularly twisted tastes liked to buy the bodies of those who had lost their lives in especially spectacular fashion. They each had their reasons, whether it was because the fighter came from somewhere special or was uniquely beautiful, or so that the buyer could dissect a person’s most unusual skills. Any number of things. Among the corpses collected for this purpose was the one Al wanted. Specifically… “A bit back, I fought a guy, a shinobi, who had the Poison Hand. He must have been soaked in the stuff to the bitter end. I asked the young lady to burn him up for me.”
gpt
Hornet:  “H—”
human
Al:  “The poison carries on the wind. And you breathed it in.”