Morpheus felt the corners of his lips twitch in pleasure. Fen, at least, was pleasant company. "It has been... educational," he admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "I admit, I have not had much occasion to consort with mortals. Not upon their terms." The last time... had been when his sister had taken him on an outing. The Tavern of the White Pony, 1386. Upon reflection (and he had been given much, much time to reflect), the encounter had been good for him. Hob Gadling had become a friend, over the centuries. Something he attributed wholly to Gadling himself, and not to Dream's own amicability.
A part of Dream wondered if this enforced contact with mortals would have the same effect.
"I will be glad when the week is through," he continued. "I do miss speaking with Matthew. And I have responsibilities to attend to, even separated from my realm." His head tilted slightly. "You have found work in this place? What is your occupation?"