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>Difficult question
You've heard a lot of spelunking tips over the years, but the one that's been beaten the hardest into your skull is this: don't engage with the occupants. Don't chat with them. Don't do errands or favors for them. No matter how convincingly they portray themselves (and some of them are <span class="mu-i">very</span> convincing), they are not real people, and if you forget it you'll get yourself killed or <span class="mu-i">changed.</span>
You don't mean to say it's bad advice, but you followed it to the letter and still wound up beetles. You're also not sure it applies here. Yeah, maybe Lottie was lied to, or misunderstood something... but she's right that this is no everyday locus. There's too much fine detail for the size, and too many occupants for this level of detail. You can read all the signs just by looking at them, for god's sake. This being some memory-afterlife-thing— to your mild surprise, that actually checks out.
And if that checks out, then Teddy's a real guy. A long-dead real guy, granted, but if <span class="mu-i">you</span> count as a real guy (you should count as a real guy) he should too. He deserves the same kind of answer you'd give anybody else: freezing up and tripping over your words. [Um, I-I-I'm just a— a guy. A normal... I-I'm not... I-I-I don't even know why you'd ask that. Um, I-I'm nothing... special.]
It's not your finest moment, but why would he ask <span class="mu-i">that?</span> Of you? Juice you up all you want, you're never getting through that answer without stuttering. Teddy puffs on the cigarette thoughtfully. "Seems pretty special to me."
[Um, that's... you don't have the full context, i-it's really not... i-i-it's just what happens...] This is immediately way more stressful than you envisioned it being. Shit! Is it too late to take the cig back?
"Okay." He sounds unconvinced. "You're in my beetles. Is that normal too?"
[Uh, I-I-I'm not... in your beetles. I am, um, your beetles.] You hesitate. [Which is normal... for me... now?]
Teddy rustles open your slicker and peers at the dozing swarm inside. "So you're talking bugs."
Cool guy, but he's kind of slow. Maybe that's unfair. You're just tired of going over this. <span class="mu-i">I-I'm a regular guy, I'm just also... bugs. And you. I-it's a little complicated, I don't know if I can fully... I don't know if you'd get it. Even if I tried. All I-I can definitely say is that, um, I don't mean any harm, and—</span>
"I didn't think you did." He taps ash onto the weedy ground. "Is it because I'm dead?"
Goddammmit! [What? Why would you—]
"You said it earlier." (He could <span class="mu-i">hear</span> you?) "I'd like honesty."
[...Yeah. You are.]
"Thanks." Long inhale. Longer exhale: the faint sea breeze carries the smoke away. "It explains a lot. You're one of those gods, then?"
You definitely shouldn't have given him the cig. [No! No, I-I-I'm just a normal— why would you think that? Oh.] (Your hands are making an 'explosion' gesture.) [That's... the blessing's not... I-I'm not a god.]
(1/3)
