Famine chuckled quietly. "Agreed," he murmured, watching the road without seeing it. He rarely had a chance to talk to Pollution, partially due to the latter's reclusiveness and his own reserved nature and partially due to the infrequent crossing of their paths. But he could always trust Pollution never to speak rashly, to make the sort of comment that seemed simple, but always summed up a point perfectly. Pollution spoke rarely, but Famine could always trust that when he did, it would be something worth hearing.

He frowned faintly at what Pollution said next, though. It had been a strange transition - more than sixty years ago, now - when Pestilence had retired. It was a first in their history; DEATH had watched impassively, War had regarded it with disdainful amusion, and Famine himself had regarded it as a step forward - a modernization, something that had to be done for them to keep their hold on the world. He supposed he would miss Pestilence - a few milennia of working with someone tended to make their absence rather noticeable - but it wasn't as if the retired Horseman wasn't keeping himself busy. In addition, the presence of Pollution was...well, a welcome one. It had taken some time to get used to, but Famine was somewhat surprised to note that now, he couldn't imagine reverting to the original four.

"He didn't," he finally replied, simply. "He chose to. He felt it was his time." Famine paused, then added, "Do you regret replacing him?"