Booker wasn’t expecting that at all, but he was. He turns his attention to the spot Dorian had been staring in, squinting to see if he could catch a glimpse of the dead man painting portraits. Sounded awfully familiar, like the man he’d just stuck with a knife.

“I think they forget that they’re dead.” Where did that come from? He has a feeling he’s seen this before. Windows into other dimensions. He wipes away the blood from his nose, sighing quietly. Nosebleeds seemed to be a regular thing for him.

“Maybe he’s alive in another reality.”