Daniel's shoulders hunch a little at that one; he won't pretend he didn't get an actual, horrifying chill following those words. He has to scramble to recover his linguistic prowess but finds himself more or less speechless, and not in a great way.

"But, okay," he stammers, well-worded as always, "why?"

He looks at Satan in complete, honest, desperate perplexity, searching eyes that initially seem deceptively human for an answer he doesn't know how to grasp.

"Why are you so interested in me? Are, are anagogical dream roadtrip discussions really so valuable to you? 'Cause, well, no offense, but I don't think that's the only factor at work here." He doesn't know how to justify the Devil's new and unnerving fascination in him. He just knows that it's there, and he doesn't like it.