Quoted By:
"As of my latest recollection, he does prefer the abbreviated 'Gil' to any other form of reference. If your intent is to express respect, that would be my suggested alternative. You're well within your rights to opt for anything, though, of course, and Charlotte is well within her rights to—"
"I didn't ask for opinions from the peanut gallery," Pat grouses. "Thanks for the tips."
"You're very welcome!"
"Um," you say. "I agree with— I was going to say all of that. He just interrupted me like a jerk. Are you going to stop using 'Bug Man'?"
A period of silence from Pat, except for the clicking of her tweezers against the metal tray. Then: "Can we get back to what you asked me to do? I was saying, I don't think this'll work. Look."
She doesn't turn around, but does lift the tweezers into the air. You consider not coming to look, just to stick it to her, but your impressive loyalty to your best retainer overrides that.
Pincered in Pat's tweezers is one of Gil's beetles. It's not moving. Your heart sinks. "It's not dead? Surely it's not—"
"No, I don't think so." Pat sets the beetle down on the counter, belly-side up, and tickles its legs. They twitch slightly. "I'd say sedated. You said he was slurring his words a little?"
You did say that. "Um, he sounded drowsy. Or drunk."
"Right. I don't know if it has to be chemical sedation, necessarily; I'm thinking metaphysical. I won't get into the weeds with you, since I understand you're a <span class="mu-i">greenhorn</span>—" A sidelong glance. "—but distortions in the C.O.S. are often perceived as relaxing. Something about it being energy-intensive to maintain a fixed identity, so 'sharing the load' with an outside force or 'letting go' of it completely represents a reduction in energy drain, despite other obvious negative consequences. As you might imagine, it's seductive that way."
"You digress," Horse Face notes.
Pat looks like she wants to say something about the peanut gallery again. "Yes. I digress. The point is, he got his C.O.S. pretty well liquified in there, and that's not easy to bounce right back from."
"But I got him out!" you protest. "He's not in Us anymore. I don't see the problem."
"Yes. And when you're not drunk anymore, you're hungover." Pat nudges the beetle. "I think he's distributed through all this goo, not just the bugs. Going in and picking them out isn't going to work, and it might be actively harmful. It's my opinion that I soften this whole chunk up, get it mixable, and dump the whole thing in a treated vat. If we're in any luck, he'll self-form like before, and there'll be no issue."
Richard could probably explain what the difference was, but he's not here, so it has to be Pat. "...Weren't you going to do that with the beetles anyways?"
(2/5)
