Normally, mind stuff does make Michael squeamish. He doesn’t want anyone else up there in his head, not with medicine or scalpels or psychic powers, none of it. Things are a bit different with Wolfgang, though. They’ve seen in there already and they’re still here (and he’s also still here). They saw inside him with magic, became him in a dream. They gave him the gift of having someone to relate to. Now they want to give him something else. He didn’t even have to ask this time.
“You think it would work on me?” he says hesitantly. The thought that they might be able to help with his insomnia seems more far-fetched than the fact that they’ve successfully taken him to the moon and back. “And you know, I don’t wanna waste one of your things. How long have you been at this, anyway? You can’t just give me one of these. They’re for customers.”