[It's definitely the fear of drowning and not the weirdly targeted written insults and the haunting hallucinations. And definitely not because he has, uh, as we say, certain tendencies. For death. In weirdly small spaces.

At least the office is roomy in comparison.

For a second, Wade's dizzy enough to completely believe he's the one who's imagining the big, flickering things on top of his latest sucker's saviour's head. It's hardly the first time; though right now he's missing his usual little glowing unicorns, and the new reoccuring sausages with legs and suspiciously creepy beards. But nothing's impaling his brain at the moment, and his pockets are stuffed with a shitload of medications, sure, but not any fun ones --

He looks again, pressed to the glass. Those. Those are unmistakable.] Holy shit! I've always dreamed about being saved by a quasi-furry! [He presses his hands to the glass, as if he's gonna have a full Neverending Story moment beyond the pages.] It won't be beastiality if we kiss on-screen, you beautiful little puddy-tat. With tongue.

[It's a shame G'raha can't hear this. But don't worry. He'll say it again later.]