[It's a strange thing to come back to oneself this way, Palamedes has decided. The first time he'd washed up on Trench's shore alone, and no one had come to get him, and no one had wanted to confirm the physical reality of him besides himself, in the hours before he ran into anyone important. Paul's arm curls around him and Palamedes remembers the urge in the River to clutch Harrow to himself (like one might wrangle a hissing cat, granted), equal parts confirmation of one body and proof of the other, and so — no, he doesn't think he'll be scolding anyone for affording him the privilege of physical actualization.

He says nothing about this, but settles back into the couch a fraction more easily.]

That's the goal. And while they're busy with the requisition forms, you go around and carry on unimpeded.

[Master Warden tip no. 3875489]

But I've no forms on me, and certainly not enough people to be fended off. [He says this as if a parade of people aren't about to walk through this room and chatter with him all day long, and he will field criticisms in the arena of dramatic irony later.] You're doing well, though. Within the system. I've heard there are a handful of you staying here, now.

[Here's a fun game to play: repeat what you learned from God neutrally and without betraying a single other emotion. That's the whole game.]