[He's been there -- not with the hallucinations, so much, but the difficulty (near-impossibility) of responding coherently or promptly. Because the world seems to have been kicked on its side, some fog of war covering it in a way that renders everything indistinct but also lets him pull back just enough to find which parts of himself are still left.

(At this point in the proceedings, everything is patchwork: what there is of him pulling itself forward with the force of sheer inertia -- moving in a line because there's nothing behind or or beside him -- gathering the scattered dreams and hopes of others as he goes. There's somewhere they all need to be.)

So Lenka takes it in stride for now, because Chuuta is still responding, and maybe that means he can coax him a little further out of the fog. Whatever it's doing.]

... It's possible. [he doesn't specify which of the two is more possible; because this week's motive and Cielo is an easy equation, but that's not the equation he's interested in solving right now] But -- listen to me, Chuuta. We're here for eight weeks. Next week is the eighth week.

That means next week may be our last chance to end this.