He's run out of nightmares, he thinks, which is why his dreams have been so oblique and aimless of late. At least now there's a modicum of influence from his waking hours to steer his unconscious - this one was inspired by the slice of strawberry rhubarb that Zachary the nurse snuck onto his plastic tray for lunch.

"Very Edward Hopper," he agrees, though he hadn't intended to be a night hawk. Dreams don't care much for intent. He swirls his fork in the cream atop his slice of banoffee pie. He has a napkin tucked into his collar in case of spills, of course. "It's good to see you." Which might be the understatement of the year, if not the century so far. "How are... things?" Also, stuff.