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"She'll be fine," Richard says. Gil's eyes bug out, but he doesn't flinch at the sudden appearance. Must be the goo. "Oh, shit," Pat says from elsewhere. "You're her—"
"Her father? Yes. Have we met? I'm Richard," Richard says, and ducks out of view briefly. He must be shaking Pat's hand. "Sorry to interrupt, but Charlie needs some TLC! You know how it is."
"I don't think I do." Pat sounds nonplussed. "Wh—"
"I'll explain later," Gil says, while Richard scoops you up and cradles you in both arms. You're in little state to protest, and any desire leaves you when Richard cranes his neck down. «You've done what you could, primrose,» he says in your head. «Which is more than anybody else could do, just about. Take a rest.»
Whether you take him up on it, or whether he does it to you, you don't know. But he kisses on the forehead, and you sink back in his arms and know nothing.
>[-1 ID: 0/15]
—
You dream of the book with two pages stuck together. You have to unstick the pages. You have to read them. But no matter how hard you pull, they won't budge; no matter whether you slice with scissors, The Sword, a knife with a tortoiseshell handle, they won't fall open. You enlist everybody you know, all your new admirers, but their combined strengths and talents fail before the pages.
So you go to Richard and beg and plead and fall before him, and he puts a hand on your shoulder, and says: Charlie, it's only a dream. It isn't real. Sleep soundly.
Then all you know is blackness until morning.
—
It must be morning, because you are in your tent, and red dawn light is coming through the canvas. Though something is odd. Most of your furniture is gone, and you have more pillows than you usually do, and Richard is seated at your bedside.
"Charlie," he says as a greeting.
"...Where..."
"Where are you? You are in your manse." He tips his chair back to reach for the door-flap, then opens it a ways. You see red-lit marble. He closes the flap. "I thought it would be more comfortable if you weren't out in the open. You were exhausted."
"Pillows," you mumble.
"I did see fit to upgrade your usual sleeping arrangements."
"...How long..."
"How long have you been out? Subjectively, some hours. In reference to real-time, it's difficult to estimate, what with the spanner variance. I'd say it's presently early evening." Richard pauses. "You haven't missed Game Night, if that's what you were asking."
"You know about...?"
"I spoke with Gil. Not at length. He isn't here, but he sends best wishes. He said he'd see you when you woke up. In real life, that is."
"Oh," you say. "That's good."
"It is. You're lucky to have somebody so staunchly in your corner. Besides me, of course, but it is good to diversify." Richard smiles. "How are you feeling?"
Your mouth is dry. "Thirsty."
(4/5)
