[Oh? More sentiment? Credit the lines this: ridiculous or not, it does raise Palamedes' spirits enough to laugh. Part of him is momentarily hung up on shared blame; it isn't as if he anticipates disastrous failure? Maybe normal, no-results failure, surely more than a few times as they fumble through what works and what doesn't, but it warms him somehow to hear that Viktor will go all in for good or ill.

Trust, then. Trust and sentiment, and he gives a mock-guilty shrug; yes yes, we. Our. Of course.]

You're right, it's down to us. Luckily there's no one half as brilliant this side of the ocean.

[And crabs are not very interesting at all, they just pinch onto his clothes and hang there, useless and pesky, until someone else rescues him. This is not too embarrassing to share, but he's distracted by Rio coming over to- approve? Is this formal Rio-approval? Everything's coming up Palamedes, indeed— he shifts to lean down, hand outstretched -

To his credit, he glances up at Viktor again, like, may he? Can he do this thing?—before he gives her a well-deserved pat with all the airs of someone who does not really interact with animals much ever and is doing his best to learn. Wow!! Rio!!

Ah, but he can multitask:] Venting. And I don't think I need to tell someone as smart as you that there's only one of you, between here and there.

[Here he is doing it anyway, though. He's sure every Sleeper knows this one, the compulsion to separate Here from There, he's even done it himself. Still, Viktor is right: the hope is the same. The reality is the same, a bittersweet thing that frames so much of how to live here, differently.

But they agreed, and so Palamedes' only-one-you is merely a reminder: talking about it is allowed.]

For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here.