"And we were in Manhattan - we met there." She finishes tearing up the hand towel in a few brisk motions, mind attempting to race and managing more of an excitable limp. Why is thinking so difficult? She frowns as she rewraps his shoulder. "So… either the Rift decided to bring us both home, and--and changed its mind to bring me here, or…"

Or? There's another option. There has to be. And it's just there. She ties off the last bit of bandaging, her gaze going distant as she straightens and gives the Balladeer an absent-minded, maternal pat on the head (all done, there's a good lad). There was some other situation, nothing like this one except for the part where it didn't make any sort of sense. Greta turns back toward the bathroom door, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead as she thinks.

Giants. Everything was giant. And there were those cats.

"Dream!" she says, whirling back around in excitement. "We're dreaming, it's all--that's what this is!"