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You can't shout. You can march ahead, Sword held over your shoulder, and stop in front of Gil. He's just standing there. His face isn't quite right. He is shoulder-to-shoulder with somebody else, somebody taller, somebody... Teddy? Is that Teddy? It's sort of nice that they're in this together, but you didn't come here for him. Oh well.
You have no mouth, and Gil's is at best a narrow indentation, but that's okay. You sheathe The Sword and reach your hand out and grab his limp hand and squeeze it. With only a minor pang of unease (how far you've come!) you allow your fingers to ooze and bind with his.
Then you think. <span class="mu-i">Gil?</span>
- <span class="mu-i">...Lottie? Where...</span> He still sounds drunk. <span class="mu-i">I-I don't...</span>
<span class="mu-i">I've come to get you out of here!</span>
- <span class="mu-i">Huh? I-I'm not... I'm... out of where? I-I think I'm okay... but... it's nice to hear from you... I-I've been waiting for you to visit me. I thought you wouldn't visit...</span>
<span class="mu-i">Of course I'd— Gil! Why wouldn't I visit? Be serious! I— I—</span> You're trying to scope out what to do with him. You can't just pick him up and throw him over your shoulder, surely. <span class="mu-i">We can talk about this later, okay? I need you to hold still.</span>
With your unjoined hand, you clumsily re-draw The Sword. You turn it around in your hand.
- <span class="mu-i">Are you going to kill me?</span>
No! you try to say aloud. Then: <span class="mu-i">No! Settle down! This is for your own good. Why would you even— under what circumstances would I ever do that?!</span>
- <span class="mu-i">You killed Richard...</span>
- <span class="mu-i">I-I don't know what you're... what you're doing...</span>
You don't either, but you're not telling him that. Goo can't feel pain. Goo can't feel pain. Goo can't feel pain. All you have to is screw your bad eye shut and lift The Sword and plunge it into his chest. Not like you're killing him. Not like that. Like you're opening him up.
Yes, like that. With a splorch. Don't move it, now. Don't touch it. Just let the orange flames light him up from inside.
- <span class="mu-i">Lottie, I'm scared.</span>
Let the goo of his chest start to thin and drip away, exactly like candlewax...
- <span class="mu-i">I-I'm scared. I don't want to die, Lottie. Please don't kill me. Please don't... I-I don't want to go back... I don't know what'll happen out there.</span>
...let it form a open hollow, like a cave, like a wound, large enough to stick your hand in comfortably...
- <span class="mu-i"> I-I-I don't think I'll be any good out there. I-I'm not good for anything. Nobody knows who I am. They like me here, Lottie— they like me— and they know me, and I-I-I know everybody, and—</span>
...and withdraw The Sword, and fish around in there. The liquid goo coats your fingers. But here and there are hard things, round things, squirming things, and they stick on to you. You withdraw your hand, and there are beetles.
- <span class="mu-i">I-I just don't think I'm suited for... for... for the world. Look at those. I-I'm not normal.</span>
You wipe the beetles onto your front and fish again. <span class="mu-i">I don't care.</span>
- <span class="mu-i">Please care.</span>
(3/5)
