Of course there's someone nearby to witness his tussle with gravity. Of course. And through the disorientation, he recognises her. Mostly.

His memory doesn't turn up a lot for her, but then his memory was never the best, and the patches of blankness and fog seem to have been growing lately. There's a vague jumble of impressions--cottony grey apathy, and a heartening spark of conflict--he remembers her mind, and getting smartly evicted from it, but the specifics are taking their time.

"Oh, yes. Nothing like sleeping al fresco to freshen one's mind." This is sarcasm. He hates trees. Zagreus grits his teeth and braces for the cliche. "Where am I?"