Jester feels a hand reach for hers, and though it's a nightmare it's unmistakably his hand, Mollymauk's, and she grips it tightly as she struggles to blink the stars out of her vision. She feels on the edge of concussed, which doesn't make a lick of sense. Lorenzo's not even doing anything. He's not fighting back. He's taking blows like he doesn't care. But somehow, with every attack...

Molly shouldn't be seeing her like this. He shouldn't have to assure her they'll be okay. He shouldn't see how hurt she is—and not the physical pain, that hardly matters to her right now.

She didn't hear him cry out, doesn't recognize that Molly got hit this time too. Instead, she just pulls herself closer to Molly. Quiet, like she's afraid if she says something she'll give something away she doesn't want in the open.

Lorenzo, apparently sensing that he's no longer the center of attention, gloats, "Funny. I don't feel a thing. Guess I really did make you weak."

Jester clenches her eyes shut, almost wishing the ringing in her ears would drown out his voice. That awful fucking voice. But she's not so blinded by fear that she doesn't recognize that something's out of place.

"Molly," and she has to swallow before she lets herself say his name, "he won't attack. I don't know what's going on. He's supposed to be dead. This is a stupid, stupid dream."

How could it be anything else?