[ Alana know exactly what she'd tell her clients if they came to her saying I hallucinated a boy made of grass whose arm turned into a sword.
Seeing it herself is not comforting. Her fingers still on the clutch of her purse; what help is a gun going to be right now? Something is very, seriously wrong.]
Hold on. Let's deal with one thing at a time. [Backing up isn't an option, given it's the railing and the ocean (filled with a monster?) is behind her. She's stuck. ]
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Seeing it herself is not comforting. Her fingers still on the clutch of her purse; what help is a gun going to be right now? Something is very, seriously wrong.]
Hold on. Let's deal with one thing at a time. [Backing up isn't an option, given it's the railing and the ocean (filled with a monster?) is behind her. She's stuck. ]
You're-- made of grass?