Sin had howled once, when he was seven.
A panic had ensued, and he had perched on top of an old bus stop to watch it all unfold. People scattered, poured out into streets and lanes but somehow wound up grouped together, angered by their own confusion; in a mass of pure chaos.
For years after, people would tell each other about how a man had drowned in that riot. Sin would always scream with proud laughter every time he overheard that story, just like how he had howled joyously while holding that man's head under all that water.