"I never really dug a grave. Other people did it for me. Lots of people died in my life but it was 17th century. I never really cared. Most the kids in the workhouse bit it by winter. I watched them get buried. Out back, not really a grave, more like a pit. You toss a couple in and cover it up. Keep on going. Is that the same?" That was his first experience with death, he had honestly expected to die too but he was a survivor. For better or worse, he seemed to have a knack for it. "Never dug my dad's grave. Didn't know him."

He certainly wouldn't have raised a shovel for the neglectful bastard. Aleister leaned back on the bench, watching Bobby work. "Your family is all shades of wrong. What was it? 1950s? You wouldn't think it was that far from my time."