Darius just laid there for a moment and considered the question. He finally moved his arm and looked at the doctor. "I think... under the right circumstances... my death would be beautiful and be the stuff people spoke of for generations. A suffering artist... lost before anyone realized his talent."

He then gave a bitter laugh. "But what good is that to me? I want to be admired while I'm alive. And recognized now. I don't want to die." He then frowned and turned his head. On a shelf was a row of stuffed little squirrels dressed like little soldiers in procession. "But since Chris died.. I have had an odd fascination with it. It keeps us immortal. When I die. I'll be frozen in time. People will remember me for the handsome face I have now. Not how it'd look in ten...twenty years. But, while I have no specific plans... I hope to have a better future." He wanted his father's money and rub it into his brothers' faces while his mom says she's proud of him for once. Even if he drank himself to death on a beach in Italy or something a year later.