"Don't worry about that," he says to Greta. "It's just an outdated metaphor." He reaches out and takes the scythe from the hooded figure. It's easy enough to let it slip from the man's grasp. This is a dreamscape, and he has the control here.

"I grant you it has style, though."He looks up at the curved blade, but only briefly. He wants to keep himself between Greta and the figure. "Can't really look ominous on a combine harvester."