Michael listens and considers, one hand always on the sheep, who looks to him for her cue the way any flocking animal does the head of the herd.

"We have more in common than I might have thought. My world was in the process of being unmade. If I were to return home, it'd be to oblivion." To say nothing of the fact that he's pretty sure he was in the process of being unmade, too.

He wasn't thrilled to find himself in Abraxas. Especially not in a pagan commune, although he'd almost certainly choose to be here again if he were given the option—for reasons ranging from the proximity to nature versus being stuck within castle or city walls, to the presence of now friendly faces among the other Summoned in Solvunn versus the presence of difficult family relations in the other factions. Michael didn't rail against being brought here the way he would have ten years ago when he was still dead set on seeing through his destiny. Solvunn's mages have no business meddling with other worlds, but they've given him a second chance.

The ewe twitches as Claire works at removing wool from its belly. It lifts a hoof and sets it back down again, then lets out a little bleat. Michael gives it a firm pat between the ears.

"Apparently, that tickles."