The question derails Roland again, diverts out of him at least a portion of his gathering anger. Later, in a time and place when his mind is clear, Roland will go over the memories of this encounter and realize just how deftly he's being managed. Now, observing and thinking clearly cannot be a priority. Nevermind diverting power from his already low stores to thinking, not when it's all he can do to keep that urge to kill in check. He'd be failing both his tutor and his teacher if he didn't do all he could in that respect; the one who insisted killing be treated only as the last desperate measure in a gunslinger's large and varied store of tools, the other who'd've had Roland's head if he shot without being sure he'd be willing to finish.

Maybe after he's finished here, he thinks, thinking over just what the child might be here for, looking down at the figure hanging beside him like a still and silent doll from the railing.

"Maybe after," he says, out loud this time because this is an answer, isn't it? And the child had asked. "Once this has played out the way- in truth, I think, the way it was always going to. Then I'll be free to deal with you. There's something I'm here for. Odd that I've forgotten. It was either to help you, you super heroes, or-"

He pauses again, searching through his memory, his goals, his intentions for whatever that other option might be. He feels it gathering in him, but isn't sure of the name for it. Finally he decides his wording and when he resumes with it his voice is heavier, flat and featureless. "Well, to help you. In one way or another."