“I had better not,” he says, knowing he might not come back at all.

One more kiss for the road.

He holds it just a little longer than he should.

But he does let him go, in the end.

And Camillo heads off to find Dorothy, or signs of a gathering party, or both.

Dorothy is at a table in the hall with a couple of other warriors, laying out a plan.

Z is rubbernecking from a nearby chair, sitting in it incorrectly and kicking his feet in the air where they’re dangling over an armrest.

Camillo comes to hang over the back of Z's chair and eavesdrop.

It’s all logistics — how many people do they need, how many horses, how far can they travel before they resupply, will they be resupplying with money or with blood…

(Z waves, visibly relieved to see him in one piece.)

"Hey. You gonna be coming?"

“Probably not. I’m, uh, kind of a liability when things get heated and then they stop.”

"Aww." (Hug.) "Are we expecting a lot of that?"

“I mean, sometimes you want to get into a library you’re not supposed to be in and not kill a bunch of random guys with pens. You know how it is.”

"I do have a certain personal appreciation of this option."

He laughs.

“…did she tell you what she’s looking for?”

"Nope. Kinda thought you might know."

“I kinda get the vibe that she doesn’t know. Not that she doesn’t know what she’s doing in general, but, uh…”

"But she's ... searching for something."

Something that might be in any nook or cranny of the town, or recorded in a library far away. Something even she doesn't know the name of.

A way out of her dream? An interloper in it? Or something else, some obscure dream-concept?

“Yeah.”

“Maybe there’s a god talking to her, or something. Might even be yours, she’s headed that way.”

Oh god her dream immune system has sensed his presence and she's tracing down the foreign matter to annihilate it.

"Uh. I guess. Maybe." Please don't put him on the spot about his supposed god, he didn't get any of the background worldbuilding here. "Seems like the gods aren't very clear communicators, if so."

He shrugs.

“…nobody seems that worried about it. They’ve all got their own stuff to do out there, anyway.”

"Always down for a good pillage?"

He snorts.

“If it was a really good pillage I’d be coming.”