[ Frowning deeply, he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, nostrils flaring and tension lining his frame even sitting down. Not alone. He should be. That's part of the problem. He'd gotten used to it; leading a camp full of refugee survivors, life is lonely at the top. And he'd embraced it because he didn't have time for anything other than survival long enough to kill Lucifer.

Getting pulled into Deerington hadn't meant anything at first other than another freaking obstacle between him and Lucifer. Despite nothing ever seeming to change in his world, things had changed here.

Lifting his hand to scratch at an eyebrow, the move is to try cover his expression up. To try shielding the pain he feels at everything he'd cut out and buried deep starting to regrow. It hurts. All of it hurts. ]

Look, man… I'm sorry I'm askin' you this. Can you use your mojo to knock me out or something? No dreams. Just for a couple hours.