[ He knows she couldn't have enjoyed that infinite loop of punishment. Executioners, after all, don't always relish in the sins they commit however necessary their services are deemed.

But then if he could stop fucking up, there'd be no reason for her to put him through a meat grinder and then there'd be fewer reasons for her to hate herself. ]

Yeah. Well. Maybe I don't want to.

[ The words are flat and joyless. Everything he hears himself saying stabs him like a skewer between the ribs, but he presses on. It's for her own safety, he tells himself ad nauseam. ]

Not the biggest fan of divine meddling me'self, so maybe you oughta... find someone else to deal with the calendar and dry cleaning. You've only got til Fate blasts you back into limbo to chase fame, right? Why waste time on a fuckin' hobo?