Very strange indeed. Killian had heard of people being poofed from the hotel only to find their way back from home, experiencing whatever bullshit did occur at home - but Sabrina hadn't gone anywhere, so her randomly inserted memory could just be a taste of what was to come if she did return home. Maybe there'd be more.
He certainly hoped so. A follow-up to 'you'll find love in a hundred years' seemed required.
"Could be more coming," he hedged. "Brace yourself." But as for that other nonsense, he hummed a little, sifting some flour as he considered what to say; the stuff looked like freshly fallen snow. "I don't think she was wrong, necessarily - though perhaps she meant to say that it happens when it happens. It doesn't mean you're unlovable, Sabrina, I hope you know that."
But she was also young and had plenty of time to experience the joys and woes and ups and downs of a relationship, something that wasn't simply 'well, that was fun, now can I have a hanger for my trousers?' There was more to it, admittedly. "It took me some time as well - a couple centuries," he confessed. "Because I was far too obsessed with revenge. I doubt it will take that long for you. Even here, who knows what could happen."