[ It seems like some things don't change with miscommunication and the like. He will always treasure his time with Lucifer, but illusions only sully his memory. When their hands join, he can feel a familiar warmth, but brushes it off as his senses being taken over by the spell. He's about to let go until he notices that terrain change under his feet.

The blades of grass disappear; they're no longer at the outskirts of the isle. It's the alien desert he remembers trekking... His senses are returning, yet the hand in his doesn't disappear. He lifts his head, steeling himself for an unfavorable encounter. ]

It looks like this is the end. [ Finally, the scales fall from his eyes and he's left there with an owlish gaze, mouth gaping open as he scrambles to find words. He expected to find a stranger or the culprit in front of him, but it's— ] ... Lucifer.

[ There's a rush surprise, elation, then dread. He sure wants to disappear for saying a lot of shit, but he grips onto his hand tighter. After dread, the fear of losing him settles in again. ]

I... No, I didn't mean you're haunting me! I thought—there were mirages. I was seeing things and—[ God, how stupid does he sound? He's inwardly screeching. Maybe it's best if he shuts up? He's going to shut up. ]