After a few short moments of struggle, Kellen makes a triumphant noise, and his knife emerges with the majority of the cork on it. Lifting the bottle, he peers into it, spotting flecks of cork floating in the dark red liquid. "Well, close enough..." With a shrug, he offers the bottle to his companion, only then noticing his somewhat downcast demeanor. "No, your explanation makes sense, it's just kinda...a useless theory. Maybe time does work that way, but if so, there's not much use knowing about it."

He pries the remains of the cork off his knife and tosses the wood into the large hole in the center of the tower, pocketing his knife again. "It reminds me of Slaughterhouse Five; ever read that? We had to do it last year, at my old school. That was one fucked-up story."