Lacie lets the strips of water-stained old paper lay where it falls, just as she's usually done. Her attention is focused on him. For a moment, she misses the the puppet monster. It's always easier if there's something she can kill to make things better. Or at least more therapeutic.

Leaning against the door frame, she folds her arms loosely and watches him pace. This is far from the way she'd expected things to end, but since when is life the way you expect it to be?

"He doesn't have to stay, if you don't want him," she says, softly. "I could run a hot bath for you. We could play with the needles."