The answer is, of course, no, and Benedict has no idea why he let himself get talked into this: but here he is, wearing the stupid outfit, flashing back to his brief and disastrous stint with Atticus, wondering if there is truly a Maker and if he'd be angered by all this.

"We hardly have a better option," he grumbles, sounding downright adolescent about it, which even he hears. He looks to Lakshmi, straightening his sleeves and no doubt hoping for a reassuring word from the person he trusts most to not let him die.