He is always smiling, always. I can see it mask on or mask off. Even within a rage he grins, his eyes gleam, even when angry he is happy. When those lips fall into anything less than a half smile, even the faintest kind, that is when you know you will not be walking away. Be you dead or suffer some sort of major loss. Should you ever see him without his lips turned upwards there is no reason to try further. No reason to change what is to come, you should just await the inevitable.
I've seen this for years now. Hollow and empty. Hollow. Not mindless, notallofus. We feel nothing. For you, for them, for ourselves. Death means nothing, not to us. Not to us. Nottome.
Gallows is the inevitable end, I am but the gravedigger that buries all his sins.