Jack takes the water inclining his head to the kid, then proceeds to raise it towards Madison in salute before taking a long cool draught, letting the sweat from the glass drip along his hand and down his arm precisely the way Jack never seems to. Not a drop however escapes Jack’s lips, even as he pulls the glass away, admiring it for a moment before turning back to Madison. “Everyone dies alone, I’m afraid.” Though his voice conveyed nothing resembling fear so much as morbid fascination. “The sun kills, thirst kills, men and women kill, rocks kill, Jack even knows of a man lucky enough to die by water. Drank himself to death of his own wealth. Everything kills, everything dies. It is the way of things, the ultimate expression of power. God is all powerful, so God kills all things, and the only thing that all killings have in common is Death itself.”<br/><br/>He shrugs, “People believe though. Not Dead-Madison believes clearly, and Jack finds that belief is power to. The cannibals believe they can take death into them by consuming dead people. They damn themselves to death in doing so, yet their belief preserves them, slows their death to inches.” Then after taking another drink, soothing his parched mouth from the extended speech.<br/><br/>“I would believe as you believe though, if only to see where Belief and Death meet.” The shift to the first person was sudden, given no explanation, and did nothing to humanize Jack for any of those present. Then, shaking his head briefly, he took another drink, finishing off the cool water and watching the ice melt delectably in the glass.<br/><br/>“Jack heard you say Ambrosea though . . .” It was difficult to tell if  they had been talking to the same person, as Jack had remained every bit as eerie during the shift back then forth. “Few are capable of killing Gomorroah, not dead-Ambrosea might be one. You said also there was dead-priest?”