"Sho..." Garrot shoves some bacon of his own into his face. Honestly, it's nice to see Xaljim again. An angry, paper-throwing Monkey is a much more welcome interloper than, like, monsters and time travel and pocket dimensions. He swallows his bacon.

"You have, like... cell phones?" Garrot reaches for a glass of water, but instead favors the carton of syrup. Consciously. "Or is it just magic? And can you talk outside of these, like, two weeks a year?" And then he begins guzzling syrup like some sort of abomination. Talk all you want, Xaljim...

Look, he's been hooked up to hospital stuff, real sugar doesn't happen there.