The concept catches him off guard. He hadn't considered it that way at all, focusing mostly on fearing what he remembered and wanting to cling to what identity he still had. Finding a place in between seems somehow improbable, want part of him is desperately reluctant to let go of the comfort of something oppressive but familiar.

His gaze flicks towards Greg, and then away again. That's not part of his inner makeup, and possibly being a fake hasn't changed that feeling. He still feels like he should be an angel, should follow those rules, even if he can't anymore. But yet...

"I don't know... how," he says, proceeding slowly and uncertaintly. Sure, angels could make plenty of little choices. Where to hang out, who to love and befriend. Even so, the purpose and trajectory of their life was already spoken for.

Duty came before everything else.