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You are realizing that Gil has not yet responded. Hmm. Maybe he needs one final little push? You open your mouth—
A sunbeam glances through the window—
Nothing comes out of your mouth. It's too dry. Your sinuses are dry, too, and irritated, like you're breathing hot sand. Maybe you are? Your lungs are packed full of hot sand. Your skull is packed full of hot sand, and it's withering the skin of your face, and you... you...
Gil rams himself sideways through the chest-hatch and jerks forward just in time to catch you in a swoon.
-
"—just a memory-splinter. Should be extractable, but it'd be a delicate—"
You open your eyes. You are lying flat on a table. You are wet on your face and all the way down your front: somebody has splashed you with water.
Gil and Richard stand over you— it was Richard speaking, though he cuts himself off and straightens as you sit up. "Hello, Charlie."
"...I..." Your mouth is still dry. "...What..."
"You had a little incident. There shouldn't be any long-term damage, fortunately. Beetles stopped you from cracking your skull open on the tile."
"...Thanks?" It feels a little like your skull's been cracked open. "...Why I am I wet?"
"You were really hot!" Gil sounds frazzled.
"...Was I?" You feel a normal temperature, now. "...How long has it been?"
"Twenty minutes or so. I believe the locale amplified your symptoms, this being nominally your own mind. It's more literal." Richard adjusts his sunglasses. "As I stated, you ought to be fine. Try to stay out of direct sunlight."
You fail to mention that he made your eyes hurt in bright light, anyways. "Um, okay. So am I clear to keep, um, talking to people?"
"If I were feeling sensible, I would tell you no." Richard looks upward. "...There shouldn't be anything physically stopping you. If would say 'good sense,' but I know full well you lack that."
"Yeah, yeah." Gil scootches away as you slide off the table. You look up at him. "Um, Gil. You said you could talk to Annie, right?"
"No," Gil says.
You squint at him. "Uh... well, do you want to come along? At least to watch me talk?"
"I-I-Isn't the worm, um—" Gil looks at Richard. "—real? Like, it's in the real world?"
"Yeah... oh." You frown. "You could use Madrigal's still."
"Lottie, I-I-I'd rather shoot myself in the dick and call myself a lady than— no. No. I-I can't— no." He shakes his head vociferously. "Unless you have some other idea... sorry."
>[A1] You have some other idea for getting Gil there to see Annie. (Write-in.)
>[A2] You don't.
-
"You want <span class="mu-i">me?</span>" Eloise says.
She was easy to find today: she looks like she just woke up. You don't think your barging into her tent woke her up. You're assuming it didn't. "Yes? Why else would I ask—"
(4/5)
