[And thus, a question where he may shear away the finer details. He sips his drink. Condensation sluices down the side.]

I want to be home. In my reality. That’s all I ever wanted, what I was working for, back in that other dimension.

And while being here is… certainly nice, it isn’t where I belong. [It isn’t the world he needs to remake.] Ideally, I find a way back through the very thin veil that apparently separates this world and mine. And you wash your hands of me.