He knows what she means, but she's just wrong. He'll go there again. Countless times feel the ache, the fear, the desperate relief when he feels the touch of that sleek fur against his fingertips. Sweeney frowns and studies the grass.

It takes the question longer than it should to process. He shrugs, not looking up to her as he gently rubs a blade of grass.

"Fuck if I know. Ain't somethin' I schedule."