He blinks at her in incomprehension for a minute. It's too optimistic a notion for him to just grasp at and hold like the end-all, be-all. His 'fate' or 'choice' or whatever - well, he was pretty sure it was to slam shut the Gates of Hell and die in the process, with Hellfire in his blood and a needle in his vein.

"I wish," he says ruefully, and he sort of means it. He wishes he could trust that it's why he's here, but it's just - it's too random for him to believe it. "What about you?"