"You regularly have encounters with psychopomps..."

He looks over his shoulder, forgetting for a moment that Need wasn't actually there, and feeling suddenly rather aware about the fact that he was basically talking out loud. To himself. With Lyla, he could at least see and hear the untouchable phantasm of a hologram. Yeesh.

If it drew Need, though, maybe there was some hope of the celebration having some truth to its myth in this world. He allows himself to consider the slim possibility.

At the suggestion, he doesn't recoil, but a hand reaches up to rub at the edge of his temples. Tiredly.

"Do I look that miserable...?" he asks, even though some gloom would be a perfectly appropriate emotion to feel. Unsurprisingly, he is skittish about admitting and accepting that a little comfort from someone else wouldn't be so bad.