He looks over at the request. Avery... really doesn't request things from him. Not like that. And maybe, maybe when he gets out of here whatever spell this is will undo and this won't be what it seems.

But he tells himself, for a moment, that he'd do nearly anything, any favor. Maybe he wouldn't drag bodies if his own Avery asked or anything like that but he... doesn't think he'd be asked that. If Avery, any version of him, asked him something, it would be something important. And he'd do it for them.

The question hits. His face goes oddly blank but inside his heart twists painfully, like it's been caught in the gears of some terrible machine. His mouth opens but he can't seem to speak. For all too long he's quiet.

And then he reaches over to jostle Avery's shoulder a bit, a soft laugh spilling out that no one would ever guess is faked.

"Aw, amigo, that's not strange at all."

Death is just something that happens. It's natural, normal, he's fine. He suggested as much to his Avery, he's told people time and time again that this is his second chance, not his first and so it's okay. It's okay. It's okay that he's tipping past death into true oblivion. It's okay that it's not enough. It's okay that he's going to go out leaving marks. It's okay, the way Avery's face looked when he finally worked out that his time is running out.

"I'll do everything I can," He says. "It'll be okay."