"Overreact -" he begins hotly, but breaks off to look away, staring at the unremarkable cabin wall as realizes just how much he is shaking. He jams rigid, trembling hands into pockets and looks at the Devil and knows he looks completely, utterly terrified in not knowing. He has no idea what Lucifer wants. He can't even begin to fathom why the Devil finds him so interesting. There are plenty of intriguing beings drifting in Manhattan, and there's an entire Rift to observe and explore, and here, in this dream, the Devil has chosen to occupy himself over studying Daniel. Does he have a plan? Is he simply trailing Daniel for the sake of trailing Daniel?

It's the wild, horrified wealth of hypothetical possibilities that follow those questions that horrify him, simply because he can't summon an answer to any of them. Man's fear of the unknown, deeply ingrained and always petrifying, even for the man who made a living out of being fascinated by that same unknown.

"Then why?" He transfers his stare to the floor, to the unmarked expanse of rug. "Short of coffee and stimulating conversation, you're not gonna get anything out of me."