For just a few seconds, he feels whole, like a real person. As the moment fades, though, it leaves him feeling colder and emptier than ever. Greg blinks at his bandmate for a moment, before rubbing furiously at his eyes.

"That--that thing." His voice is tight, and sharp, and wet. "Don't let that thing near me. You got it?"

He backs off a few steps, more to put distance in from the wisp than from Weasel.