Mm. [ Clarisse nods. Right now her birthday seems like it's months in the future, though in actuality it's next month. She starts pushing at the Argonaut tile and cringes as more blood begins to pour into the locked room. It's sloshing around her ankles and she can smell it, rust and pennies and salt. Smelling this much blood is never good. More fucked up memories. ]

I know. It's good that you're here. I just—I didn't expect it to mess with me like it did. With my mind. But I was lucky. I made it out okay. [ Well, she made it out with some new scars and had to hack her own hair off with a knife, so... "okay". ] My boyfriend had been sent in, too, a little before me. He didn't die, but... he was changed. [ She chews at her bottom lip and stares at the tiles to avoid looking down at the blood. ]

Peter reminds me of him, [ she adds after a few moments, in a softer voice. ]