"Also, you do help, obviously. We talked all about it. I haven't turned into a lizard one single time without you, since you help so much. And—"

"Lottie?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Can you not, um, go i-in my dreams unless it's an emergency? Or you have something really i-important to say?"

Oh. He is mad. "Sorry."

"I-I-I'm sorry. I just— i-i-i-it's really personal, and—"

"No, I get it." Even though he was in your dreams before. You remember that. Maybe it was an accident when he did it, but as your retainer, and also your official sworn friend, shouldn't it be okay both ways? You wouldn't mind if he did it again. "I'll leave. Bye."

"Wait," he's saying, but you've already turned and pulled the glued-together model of your manse out of your pocket and are whispering to it [OPEN], and it is already unfolding and taking you inside. The last thing you hear is a wrench hitting the workbench.

Once you're in your manse, it's trivial to return to your body, though you're unhappy to discover what's sitting pertly on it: a snake.

«Your so-called 'friend' doesn't want you around. Who could've expected this.»

It's been weeks since you heard Richard so deadened. You peer down at him. "Why are you a snake?"

«I am always a snake.»

"But you're—" You lift him up over your head. He wriggles. "You're not. Um, objectively. You stopped pretending, remember? I'm going to go see your actual not-snake body soon."

«Assuming your incompetence doesn't end the world beforehand, yes.»

"But it won't? Remember destiny?" You have no idea if he's wildly scraping for things to be mean about, or if he actually can't think as well. Against all odds, you feel a little sorry for him. "Now, seriously, why are you a snake? You hate being a snake."

«Is it so surprising that, in an addled state, I—»

"You described in detail how being a snake was the most horrible thing you could possibly do to yourself. I think you compared it to crushing your bones into a paste? Or glue? I think it was glue. Is the Director onto you? Are you hiding out?" You bring his beady eyes closer to your face. "Does it hurt right now?"

«No.»
«Your wild speculation is useless. The only thing you need to know is that I will be righting this ship, Charlotte Fawkins. Expect an immediate resumption of forward progress, whether you like it or not.»

"Efficient forward progress?"

«Efficient forward progress.»

His dead little voice and his black little eyes and his pink little tongue. You forgot he used to be cute. "Richard? Do I need to get you out of there?"

«No.»

"That sounds like a yes to me. Hang on." You concentrate at him until he hisses, wobbles, and vanishes, and concentrate a little harder until he reappears, kneeling, one hand on the ground. "There. Now, is something the matter? Because if you do need to hide out, I understand— geez, does it actually hurt?" He's grimacing.

"Yes," he says shortly, and fixes his tie. "Now, if you don't mind, I will be resuming—"

"Being a snake? Explain why?"