You are not okay in the head. You know this pretty well, actually. So it made sense to you that you were here. Let's recap.

You were a murderer. Pretty vicious one at that. You had a myriad of mental disorders, and you were legally insane.

Apparently, there's a level of insane you can get to that you break the game, so to speak. Because now there was a guy in a long, smoky purple chiton, like from Ancient fucking Greece, with cocoa skin, long, wavy, purple hair, purple eyes, and a ton of grapes and shit in his hair, with a leopard-skin pelt on. In your kitchen. Who says he is the god of madness. And also wine. And he introduced himself as Dionysus.

He's so far explained to you that one- it is his job to gather up people like you and stop them from wreaking absolute and total havoc, two- that you can totally just join up with his chill-ass followers instead and just get drunk or whatever the fuck, and three- that you are also very scary so please say yes and don't make this hard for him.

Right now, he's standing in front of you, having just finished explaining this, and towering over you with a nervous expression on his face, waiting for you to say something, anything.