Sweeney takes the coin, and it promptly vanishes again with a roll of his fingers. He isn't thinking about it, he's listening to Will intently. Nothing about his 'condition' seems cut and dry, but there's enough pieces to make a watercolor. It's not like 'human' has any one meaning here. Some are magicians or afflicted with visions. This isn't that different. The inquiry is met with a shrug of his head.

"Fine by me. Pretty much anythin's better than Sweeney." Except for Shuibhne.

"Ain't like yer gettin' rid'a Pup."

He owns his flaws. And really, he likes the idea of getting to keep a brother. Things were closer with Fitz now, undeniably. But it isn't like that. Of course, Will wasn't his twin either.

Sweeney exhales through his nose, faintly amused.

"Normally it's me that's gettin' the distance requestin'." From Tiffany. He'd learned from his struggle with her, and has been upfront with people since. Of course, he has yet to have had another soulmate written for him. Sweeney shoves away any thought of Dead Wife.

"Ain't gonna bother me, us bein' familiar." Read: yes, that would be nice but there's no fucking way I'm going to say that out loud, even to you.

"But I gotta warn ya; I'm Harkin, but I ain't only him. There's gonna be days when it's harder ta see him in me. An' days I get confused. Shit bleeds. It's a whole thing." He sighs as his eyes slip beneath their lids.