A cold laughter rang through out the manner of Guadosalam. Seymour's cold, sly chuckle as he stared at a sphere of his wedding, over and over again. He himself found it highly pleasing that she would finally get the sense to call her husband. He would have his way with her in her virus induced state until it wore off. Love, as he had gathered when he grew up, was an illusion so majestic that it could blind even those who were the sharpest of visionaries.