Dear Nooj and Paine.

Hey, you two. I decided to give you your own scene, in order to give one of the ten jillion secondary story arcs justice (and as a treat for owlmoose, perhaps).

STOP sitting around with that sort of flat, tense "there needs to be a climax and resolution to this scene sooner or later, and yet there isn't, and it's all grim and gray and patches of dirty snow" conversation that reminds me of an artsy Soviet-era Polish film.

I was planning on doing more with this chapter, covering a bit of plot-advancement in the other 2 parts of the triptych, but you two and your stupid Unresolved Tension of an Ill-Defined Nature keep EATING ALL THE WORD COUNT.

And in other news, sinuses suck. (I'm better, but still headachy and ook.)