Anyone with an iota of good sense might be afraid of earning such a look from a man like Wrench. Grady's known more than a few who have lacked that sense and come to regret it, most of them currently spending their time at the bottom of various iced over ponds and shallow graves across the Midwest. But nothing about Wrench has ever scared Grady. Sure, he's been scared on his behalf a couple of times -- some near misses he still doesn't like to dwell on, that track across Wrench's body in pale scars -- but he's never been afraid of him. Maybe it's because he can't look at him without remembering that shy and gentle boy with whom he shared what could generously be called a childhood. Maybe it's because he knows, at the end of it, that Wrench will never hurt him.

Either way, he's able to stand in the path of Wrench's anger and look, at most, annoyed.

OK, so it is a revenge thing. That's so fucking childish. Though Wrench does have a point; the spinning waves of dust are starting to increase, making it difficult for him to shape the words he needs without being distracted. He can feel the static starting to hum in his bones. It's weird, sick feeling. But still, it's just a dream, right?