"Fae folk ain't made fer fittin'," he muses, half to himself.

"S'pposed ta be outsiders, ridin' the magic edges where Safe meets the Unknown." Sweeney shakes his head at the memory.

"We ain't made fer comin' Home, 'nless ya steal her skin first." His eyes roll beneath their lids. Even with all the lives lived since then, he can still feel Sheridan's longing for his lost pelt. Eventually, his focus finds her again.

"Aye, that's the fuckin' rub. Only time the fuckin' Adm'ral gives me somethin' I want's when I stop doin' shit ta earn it." He feels like there's something in there that he can't quite make sense of.

"Course, just as likely that me stoppin' would end up with me bein' blinked off inta bein' Dead again, so...gotta run the numbers."

At the moment, things aren't worth the risk. But they will be someday; he's certain of it.