At times his voice is fire and thunder. Filled with a pride no amount of failing could ever take. At times his voice is the bellow of a black hole, endless and terrifying, fueled by the blackest darkness. He smells of blood and confidence with just a hint of isolation. Rich leather and deep chuckles and fragile private smiles. His voice is sin sometimes that turns knees to water. His voice is a prayer, soft and quiet, like a hand raised out of dark water - save me from myself.