"Ahhhhh, yeah! That's right!" It's a funny coincidence that they arrived so close together. Lucky for him, too. The Balladeer's quiet for a moment, turning her phrasing over in his head. "Does that mean that's my birthday now? I think that makes sense." The only other dates that are significant to him are days that other people died, and he certainly doesn't want to choose those. Birthdays aren't something he's thought much of before, but it seems like a fun, normal thing to have.

He just shrugs over the thought of being magical. He doesn't think of himself as magic or special. It's always seemed natural. Sure, none of the assassins heard music. But he never cared what they did, so it all came out the same!

Being a narrator is a different matter. "It helps," he agrees. "If I had to ask them their stories first, it'd never come out right. They lie. That's why they need a narrator." He takes a sip of his drink, rather wishing as he watches Greta that he had a little more alcohol. Maybe they're meant to meet in the middle. "It was never supposed to be for just any normal person, but I guess there's no reason it would've turned off when I left."