Ryah didn't know how to bring it up. He'd never been very good with words or talking to people. Soft skills, as some people called it. That always been more of Charlie's department than his. The brunet found it much easier to just point, aim and shoot. He didn't like to dwell on things too much. It was too easy to get stuck in his own head, to overthink things. He let out a carefully-paced breath, wondering how the hell people talked about this. He realized he had said that they could just forget about it but the longer he thought about it, the longer he didn't actually want that. And maybe he wouldn't actually be fine with whatever Drake decided.<br/><br/>Drake's next words gave him pause though. "If you get killed, then it was your time?" He repeated dimly. "What--are you fucking kidding me? Your ti--" That was the stupidest thing Ryah had heard all week, possibly all month. He didn't know why those words made him so angry. It was almost as if Drake was simply giving up. As if he was merely existing, like he didn't give a damn about anything or anyone. He clenched his fists, anger spiking in his blood. He didn't even know what to goddamn say to that.<br/><br/>He ignored the rest of Drake's words. Something about demons and the damned garden of Eden or something. Instead, before he even realized it, Ryah had snagged a hold of Drake's wrist. "That's it? You're just living on borrowed time? If you end up getting killed, then that's that?" He was probably grabbing the vampire hard enough to hurt him, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop.