The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown.

Ancient Reptilian Brain: There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. Your conscience ferments in it - no largher than a single grain of malt. You don't have to do anything anymore.
Ever.
Never ever.

Player: Never ever ever?

Player: Looks like drinking hasn't turned out too well for me.
Electrochemistry: MAYBE YOU HAVEN'T TURNED OUT WELL FOR YOUR DRINKING?!

It's only that one spot you need armoured too - the one the bullet hits.

Mirror: A mirror hangs above a bent and broken sink. In a fierce discharge of masculine energy, someone has ripped half of the faucet off.

Conceptualization: Was this not the same elan that founds empires and lays waste to cities, virile, uncaring towards the little things?