Even as Wrench can feel his own body reacting, he knows there's no logical reason for surprise. This is, of course, entirely within the realm of possibility. It's the inverse he's more familiar with himself. Then again, isn't it always easier to destroy than it is to create? To demolish, rather than to build? He finds himself shooting Claire a sidelong gaze, but his eyes seem to look past her. For a moment something seems close, like a memory haunting the periphery of his consciousness. It feels distinctly human though, so he assumes it must have something to do with the fate of one poor devotee or another he's encountered in the last several hundred years or so. The notion is easy enough to convince himself of that he pushes the whole thought away with a shake of his head.

Funny thing is, she probably wasn't the one asking for it. He doesn't know this for a fact, of course. There's nothing saying that the dead couldn't find ways to beseech the Gods on their own behalf. But it's a curious notion, that the ultimate blessing that could've been granted to her might have been one she didn't request. He pauses to see how the notion of that might strike Claire.

[[OOC - Oh no; Wrench was just starting to really like those bees. ROFL. He will, of course, want to help in any way possible once he finds out.]]