Gar could almost feel sorry for him — maybe he did a little bit... he still didn’t know why the other would have thought he ever would have mentioned what was going on. In truth, maybe he hadn’t been completely certain it was behind the others back at all.

“I’m not meant for great things. I just had shit luck,” Gar can’t just relent. He wouldn’t have been here if he hadn’t gotten that deadly disease in the Congo. It was shit luck, that was all. No meant for great things or fate. Random chance.

“And you are my captor if you don’t want to be you could always stop.”

Except he can’t because blah blah gotta rule the world.