Carlisle ignores the look Rey gives him as he pulls the bottle toward his end of the table and fiddles with the cap. He's not drinking it, of course. Just looking, that's all.

"Who can truly say if the gods and their Door will send us home every time?" he asks. "Or that there aren't those who die, and no one would be the wiser as to what happened to them? When they do not return, what are we to assume?"