Having drawn a second long, contemplative pull from off the joint, Fitcher passes it back down to him now from out of the resulting brief miasma.

"That feels good," is as idle a remark as a cat stretching after a nap in the sun is. Less so, though she makes no move to draw out from under the meandering pass of his fingers— "If you sent her, would she be able to find my like she did in that dream? Or was that just a convenience of our imaginations?"

There are a dozen good, extremely pressing reasons to ask that question.