I'll keep you up all night with my criticisms, don't worry. I've brought a red pen.

[The party will rage on, or pettily gossip on, and they don't have to pay one whit of attention to any of that. It's looking like it's going to be an excellent evening after all, Palamedes thinks, giving Viktor a sideways little grin before the door, hm—

Well, something about the door. It's like the world tilts and straightens back up again in the split second it takes Viktor to open the door, and here they are, standing back in the room Palamedes swears he'd just left. The party, that was - what was the party? He twists to look over his shoulder, frowning at the innocently closed door now behind them, then looks back to Viktor. Now the Piltover experience feels fuzzy and strange, a proper dream, but Viktor is still here, so - it's Trench Bullshit Again, isn't it.

Hastily he looks down at his hand, just to see if his ring has reappeared, which it has, which means yeah: it's Trench Bullshit Again.]

Well— hmm. I don't know how this is happening again. [The last eerie shared dream was so long ago, what gives.] Ideas?