Tannusen levers himself down to sit on the sidewalk against the trashcan, too dizzy to stay up. Not only is he recovering from death, but he's had two sets of memories rammed back into his skull. The tiger remembers considering the closet door, and planning on returning later for the other one... the mouse.

He feels sick.

He is sick.

"And I'm sure you'll have plenty more to say to me once there's a cure out for this, probably with your shotgun," the Fae says tiredly, adjusting his grip on the phone. Lingering on the line like this, this is probably the official start of the self-flagellation.

But at the same time, he may never get to talk to the guy again.