( That flannel thing makes him pause visibly, some very obvious mental math happening as his eyes flicker to the sky, and he tries his best to recall his mental Rolodex on Wood Nymphs. Do they wear flannel? Is that, like, a thing?

After a beat, he shakes it off — not important — and moves on with his life.

Instead, he focuses back on the sounds of crashing behind the door, his sword arm falling with a frustrated sigh. )

Alright, look, I don't think we're gonna find a conveniently empty house, and we need these seeds to save Dragonland, so-

( Which, of course, abruptly brings another question to mind. He squints at Lucifer discerningly. )

Hey, why do you care about saving Dragonland, anyway?