[He tugs self-consciously at the hairs on the back of his neck. Whatever he says now won't be all of it, or anything close. Not even because it's scandalous, but because it's sentimental, and that's so unlike him.

Not that he has time to tarry or ponder. The creature's slow pace is nevertheless relentless.]

I had a talk with a friend... someone I've known longer than anyone else here. He gave me a hazelnut chocolate and we both had tennis racquets on our palms for a few hours. I guess it's possible that there could be a delayed effect...

[He seems doubtful. That chocolate's mostly digested, and the tennis rackets have faded.]