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"Huh." Eloise rubs her chin. "You know, that's a great... I wasn't aware he had any involvement with them, but I also hear they make people sign gnarly contracts. So who knows? You think it's related with the Madrigal blowup? They were fighting about it, or—"
"Uh, I'm not sure." (You think Madrigal would've told you if she knew about something that specific.) "...Have you seen Ellery around here?"
"Yup! He's hanging around your tent."
"Oh, God. Okay. Uh... I guess I better go, then." Before he kills himself or whatnot. "Bye."
«Civilized persons express their gratitude verbally.»
You sigh deeply. "And thanks, I guess, bye."
"So soon! Don't forget about Monty. And tell me if this cracks the Ellery fiasco wide open, I'd love to—"
"Lottie!" Gil lurches out of his resting place— you see a little divot in the sand where he's been sitting. (You have successfully tuned out Eloise, who is in the retreating distance.) "Are you— I-I-I-I mean, are you done? I-I-I didn't want to—"
"Done with her, yeah." You help him up, squint, and straighten his bow tie. "I need to go talk to Ellery, though. For my case."
"Ell—" Gil whitens. "That guy?"
"Different one. Er. I mean, they're the same, but one's just a weirdo and the other one's a weirdo prick. You met the prick. We're talking to the weirdo. 'Kay?"
"Um... 'kay."
You pat him helpfully on the shoulder and set off.
-
As promised, Fake Ellery is loitering in the vicinity of your tent: far enough to maintain plausible deniability, close enough to catch you. There is something slouchy in his manner, and as you draw nearer you take note of the corked-shell bottle jammed into one of his coat pockets. Great.
"Hi," you say stonily. "It's afternoon, you realize?"
"Lottie! And Mad- Maddie— shit. Gil. Sorry." He sounds coherent (for Ellery), but you narrow your eyes regardless. "I, uh— what a coincidence! I was just, uh, you know, milling around, when I—"
"I'm not talking to you if you're drunk." How sensible of you, to set this obvious standard. "You're bad enough sober. Go home."
He prods his forehead. "Shit, am I drunk? Really?"
...Is he taking the piss? (Pardon your language.) Is he smart enough to do that? You hate Ellery. "How am I supposed to— <span class="mu-i">are</span> you drunk?"
"I'm trying. I'm working on it. No success so far, but, uh— I'm working on it. I'm sleep deprived, if that— I couldn't sleep, Lottie. At all. Swear on it. Went and took a walk and came back and I still just <span class="mu-i">laid</span> there— uh, you know how people can't sleep when they're busy thinking about something?"
You're caught between a 'so you never sleep, then?' and a 'so you always sleep, then?' and wind up with neither. "Y...es."
"Yeah." He cocks his chin. "So how's the Maddie stuff going? I see you've been... shopping?"
(Choices next.)
