[He stands slowly as the heat ebbs, running a hand over his face. It's the fact that she does release him that has to do with why he doesn't flee while he can: what's the point? Death isn't death, it's an endless loop here and he just. doesn't. care.

Bending forward, then crouching, the smirk makes its way back to his face.]

Oh, come now. Don't tell me you're expecting hellfire. You don't strike me as the sort to wind up down there.

[Not that he believes in it. Not that he has ever believed in any of it.]

You strike me as weak.