“We’re a rarified breed, I guess.” It doesn’t occur to him that his skills in particular aren’t suited to the apocalypse. Not one like Jesus’s world went through anyway.

At the death question… “Too much. And if it’s not happening in the real world, it’s happening in a dream that feels too real, or a pocket reality that you can only get out of the one way.”

He shivers, touching his throat, resisting the urge to touch his stomach. “I’ve died in dreams a few times now. The scars stay, every once in a while. Mercifully not the time someone cut my throat open, but sometimes.”