Quoted By:
"We'll be going now." Gil brushes against your shoulder. "Could you say bye to Teddy for me?"
YES
The beach is gone. The abandoned festival stands are collapsing into the ground. "Bye," you say weakly, and follow Gil back up into the ruins. "...We should go."
"Yeah," he says, and pauses. "Your snake's gone."
You feel your empty neck. "Oh."
"I-I-I hope that doesn't mean anything. I-I-I..." He makes a whispery little noise. "...I-I'm beat, Lottie, I— I don't think I can take any more of this. I-I-I-I'm not cut out for this at all. All I want is a... break."
You might've privately found this a tad lazy, somewhat unretainerly, except that you know exactly what he means. Madrigal's <span class="mu-i">still</span> out there, suffering, needing a swashbuckling rescue as soon as humanly possible, and right now the thought of that fills you with black dread. You'd prefer to lay down and do nothing, or maybe get drunk then lay down. "Shut up," you say. "Don't <span class="mu-i">say</span> that."
He contracts. "Sorry. Sorry. I-I-I'll— I'm not leaving you, or anything, I just—"
"You <span class="mu-i">are</span> cut out for this. Obviously. You went and did all that stuff without me—" (You assume. You'll get the story later.) "—and you snapped me out of it, and whatever. You did a good job."
"What? But I-I-I didn't do..." He pauses. "...Um... thanks, Lottie."
"<span class="mu-i">Obviously.</span>" You wave a hand. "You need a ride? You can crash in the manse... maybe I can find a resting place before getting too wrapped up with Madrigal. So I can come in and check on you."
"Um, you don't have to..."
"I will," you say decisively. (You can grab a drink at the same time.) "Can you do the thing? The go-in-my-manse—"
"Sorry. Yeah." He retreats a ways, as if winding himself up. "I-I'll see you later."
The beetles stream through your pupils and are gone. The trees on the hillside are felling themselves, row by row, as the goo encroaches. You start the slow walk back to the doorframe, though you nigh-instantly stub your toe on something ("Damnit!")— a pointy chunk of something-or-other, about the size of your fist. On a hunch, you raise it up to compare with Annie's jaws: one of the cusps is missing. Well, then. You grip the cusp hard, pick your way to the doorframe, and look through it. Blackness. You step through.
Claudia peels like a skin away from you, and you emerge into a tiled tunnel (a storm sewer?) as yourself. There's no glass in your hands. The sound of close-by footsteps prompts you to—
"<span class="mu-i">Charlotte?!</span>"
—look up into the face of a woman you don't recognize, and then a woman you very much do. For some reason, Madrigal's wearing leather pants.
>[END THREAD]
