"God, yes." Questions of his (very much non-fictional, thank you) life are swarming his subconscious and making internal navigation extremely difficult. Coffee, at least, appears to be a multiversal conversational light fixture that he can cling to and anchor himself on until all...this becomes slightly more manageable.

He only just recently met the Devil and then the archangel Gabriel. Daniel silently demands the Rift, the universe, and everything if there are anymore surprises it would like to dispense upon him. Just once, he'd like to be prepared for things like this.

He accepts the coffee, dream-manifestation it may be, and drinks. It's black, pure and simple, nothing else, and that's exactly what he needs right now. The caffeine patches his frayed nerves enough to remind him of the primary question at hand.

"So I'm...really, honestly a, a fictional character? In your universe?"