Oh good, there's that facility again, apparently being flooded with neurotoxin doesn't denote 'failure.' She really does not seem happy about no longer being a building. Fair enough. Less good--machines and the like, remembering the things he says off the cuff, that's not what he's for, ugh. "It's a long story. Or a fairly short poem." He makes a flippant hand gesture; take your pick. "I did not turn out to be a very good suggestion," he says this with incongruous fondness and venom. "The person who suggested me probably regretted it very much, after I threw him into a pocket universe full of his own angry mistakes." This is safe to say to a strange piece of tech in a dream-garden. Absolutely. "I am a much better m--" he sneezes, barely having time to raise his hand, palm out almost like he's warding against something. That is really not something that happens in dreams, right? He certainly can't remember having sneezed in a dream. Is this to do with his recent illness? But no, she is experiencing the same thing. Dream flowers with shockingly realistic dream-pollen? Well, as problems go, that's nothing, nice try, Rift. He looks most put upon.