Agreements based upon sentimentality are fickle at best, to rely on aught so fleeting is foolish. I offer naught more than a pragmatic exchange of mutual benefit. Though, you believe yourself above it.

You will punish yourself and others resisting compromise, impetuous defiance will only carry you so far. I cannot help but wonder your goal.

[For as much as Barnabas has fully embraced his place as a slave to fate, he cannot help but be intrigued by those who continue to stand firmly against the inevitable. There's a madness to it, isn't there? There's utter futility to the toil, to go into it time and time again knowing the result will be the same, yet weathering it all despite it.

Despite no true hope to overcome it... No victory to be claimed, no relief from the cycle. Why?]