He spreads his palms. "I'm here now," he says. "Not on purpose, for the record. Perhaps it's Fate."

A chuckle. This asshole doesn't believe in Fate--in fact, he more than likely spites and spits on it. He doesn't want anything to do with the Fates. Whatever, if anything, is left of them.

If their reach makes it here. If they have any connection to his Father.

He moves forward, only a step. "I just want to talk."