(Of course his head had gone there. He'd lived it. It had landed him out in the cold for over a decade and only chance had reeled him back in. If ending the Sheriff's pursuit was the objective, well, that was a method he fucking vouch for.)
It was a sick thought. It was... If it were Will, personally? He'd take Marian's dunny dungeon over that any day of the week. It was a torture he never wanted to relive. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.
(Except right now, that enemy was threatening to maim and murder and torture everybody Will loved, and any solution had to be better than Marian taking that stain on her soul. And he couldn't deny it, just at a ruthlessly practical level: If there was a god that could do it, it would solve their problem.)
Will stared down into his beer, carefully noncommittal. "I dunno either. Don't really know how any of this god stuff works. But it's something to think about."