[ For a long, awkward pause, Will sat and tried to determine how he would feel if confronted with real magic. With a real demon. All in all it would be hard for anything to top Hannibal's asshattery so Will decided he'd just take shit as it came.

Now was a good time to drink more and so he helped himself to a fresh swig. ]

We're a group of strangers, coming from different realities, with no apparent common denominator, or reason to explain why we're here and ... what?

Does that make sense in any of the literature you spend time going over?