Murphy pulled back now, needing to compose himself. He was starting to feel...overwhelmed, he guessed. He wasn't sure. But he drew back gently from Gabe, his eyes bright but at least no longer actively leaking. He wiped at them with the back of his hand and shook his head.

Second chances.

"Second chances usually don't happen in a supernatural hellhole you're not likely to survive," he pointed out, bluntly. "It's like the worst of both worlds. Prison and scary voodoo shit that wants me dead."

If that wasn't a pretty obvious sign from God, Murphy didn't know what was. But there was less conviction than there normally was, when he swore up and down that the good Lord had abandoned him.

"Uh, sorry for the language."