It seems there's been an epidemic of nightmares, lately. I have to admire anyone who can remember them so clearly.
All I recall is something about puppets and strings...and fog. The fog was rising.
[There's a bit of something in her voice suggesting she held back a little of what she remembered, perhaps because she'd been so open about the last "
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[Yet he doesn't sound amused. Not in the slightest. Rather, his words are cut and strained.
Something's coming. But what?]
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Most curious indeed.
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How... do you plan to handle this situation? [Not that he really cares, but-]
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