[At the very least, Gale seems to be listening carefully to what Dante was saying. Even if he still looks about as well as someone who was run over by a bus a few times. He turns his gaze toward the floor, setting the dish down beside him.]

I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't question on numerous occasions if I can even be considered human anymore.

[He places a hand over his throat. That gray skin and its accompanying markings remind him every day of what he is. Sure, he makes it seem like he doesn't care, but he's asked that question a multitude of times. If nothing else, that burn in his throat and chest was reminding him he was alive.]

It's kinda ironic. I question if I'm nothin' more than a science experiment for a genocidal mission, then when shit like this happens, I ask myself why the "Good Doctor" didn't get rid of my emotions while he fucked with my body.

[His thoughts were as fragmented as what he actually said aloud. What he said seemed like he was just saying them to get them out there, so he didn't have to keep sitting on them.]

I have a bad tendency to remind myself that I should be dead.

[He rests his head on the shoulder to look at Dante.]

That's the shit I keep on hand for ya at Hangar Queen? Damn. Maybe I will end up drunk by the end of this. Hope you won't mind me borrowin' your couch.