Turnovers and tea. Greta making him dinner just like in that dream. Catatonic man in the other room. This is ridiculous. So much so that he regards both the board and her question with weary nonchalance, no energy left even to feel embarrassed.

"It's called a Ouija board," he says, then swallows. "It's a game. Toy. For kids. Everyone puts their hands on the thing and asks questions to nothing and supposedly spirits will answer by moving it to letters and spelling stuff out."

He's not really in a position to judge how dumb the whole thing sounds, given his history, not to mention how much the damn thing ended up helping.

"Tim bought it as like a last resort to try talking to me," he says, "and... it actually worked. I have no idea why, but I could move it, even when I couldn't move anything else. So. Guess there must be something to it."

He shrugs and finishes off the first turnover, licking his fingers with a rare lack of self-consciousness.