"Yes," she answers his reflection in the reinforced glass (plastic?) of the window. "Everyone is — I think." No one is a stranger to the void insofar as humankind is born of it; the void in human from. Das Trauma der Geburt is but one hypothesis for the emptiness inherent in living flesh. "We want to be whole."

In the conflict of arms other people are assets, a means to an end, and yet the unlikely duo subsist on the thought that their acts will someday be recognized, if not by the mass than those few who are alike in character. Is Venom's "half" estranged by distance? Faulty memory? The impassable limit of death? An ostensibly sentimental notion, perhaps, nonetheless even the most disreputable of men wish to be understood. Without comprehension everything collapses into absurdity and nothingness.

Eli turns from the uniform sea and comes up to him. Thin arms encircle what they can of his shoulders, passing beneath his loosened hair like pale newborn serpents. With eyes shut she holds him firmly — that it is felt.

"Sometimes I don't show it, or can't, but ... you make me happy. Very much."