[ All right, asshole. Logan shoots Hotdog a look, but then shoves his hands in his pockets and says, out loud and with much conviction: ] We're dreaming.

[ And that... should be enough, right? Standing here in this crowd, standing in this room, when only moments ago he was sure the world was on fire, and saying that he's dreaming... it should be enough.

So Logan's eye twitches a little when they won't wake up as immediately as he'd hoped. ]

We're dreaming. [ He says it again. ] God damn it. Why? This is a dream. Come on!

We're dreaming, we're dreaming, we're dre--

[ -- everything goes black.

And then Logan's eyes are open, and he's gasping for air, and it smells like copper, bleeding into his nostrils with all the furious strength of overwhelm. It's dark here, wherever he's awoken, and he feels paralysed and heavy as he struggles to get to his feet.

Dust spills between his fingers. When Logan brings them up to his nose, the metallic scent is strongest. ]

Hotdog? [ There's no answer. He shakes the dust from his hands, head jerking and looking around with a frantic edge to it. ] What the fucking hell...

[ He walks, steps careful and light, until finally there's a door he can fumble over, pushing it open and shivering hard at the cold that immediately whooshes over him.

But the outside world is empty.

And the outside world is dead. Futilely, Logan's lips part around a there's no place like home, but

everything

goes black again. ]