But to swear on Killian's left nut, his current existential crisis hadn't exactly been intentional, nor was it because he was over there pretending to be some confused adolescent waiting for fate, written interpretation, and the stars to align before admitting he might have a problem.
Wasn't he already much too old for that?
If anything, he'd already resigned himself the moment he allowed his soul to burn that fateful day, and ever since then, he'd simply accepted that the universe apparently found great joy in meddling with his life.
No...
More than his admittedly flinchy disposition that seemed to rival one particularly unstable live wire, if there were anyone to blame for his current predicament, then his trembling finger could only point toward the bees.
The worker bees, in particular.
Of course, they'd immediately plead not guilty to every accusation thrown their way, likely defending their position to the bitter end as there was admittedly a grain of truth to it—
