Jester doesn't need to be persuaded. Molly's hand against her cheek is a long lost comfort, his voice equal parts painful and healing. Of course it's a dream. Both of these people are dead. It's been months. She bites her lip to stop tears from spilling, sniffles.

"Okay. Okay okay okay."

She's fine. She's fine. None of this is real. She's going to wake up and... Molly will be gone again, but she'll just curl up with Yasha for a while. Maybe Caduceus, too. He gives really good hugs.

Her hand comes up over Molly's as she starts to try to rise back up, pointedly not looking in Lorenzo's direction.

Lorenzo, meanwhile, perhaps sensing a shift in Jester's intent now, switches tactics from mocking to threatening.

"Run, then. I'll find you. Maybe I'll kill that pale woman with the face paint next time. Slower, though. I remember how she likes it."

Jester shivers, her grip on Molly tightening. She steels herself, tells herself not to look at him, don't grant him that, he doesn't deserve it, he's dead he's dead he's dead. He can't hurt Yasha anymore.

But she's frozen in place, now. She can't make herself run. She can hardly remember to breathe.