"When my number came up I'd rather assumed it would be at the end of something a bit pointier and more wooden."

He nearly smiled at that, the statement definitively lacking the bitterness or fear another person might employ when casually outline the circumstances of what he expected for his own death. At home there was no one who checked the times he burst into suicidal ideation with the frequency and cheerfulness a Disney princess burst into song--it wasn't that his flatmates didn't care, that was largely just Hal, and what Hal was like. He knew the things he'd done.

So if Riley had been trying to suss out exactly what he was, that was uh, probably kind of a clue. The whole. Death by staking thing. Meanwhile, the mention of different worlds and times more piqued his interest than phased him; he'd been told of not unsimilar (totally insane) circumstances back in Barry, though he hadn't witnessed himself. The future was, to summarize greatly, definitely not bright enough for anyone to bother wearing shades, including the vampires now running things. Horrifyingly.