Lydia excuses herself with a mumbled apology, taking the recorder with her. 

"Is she going to be okay going alone?"

"She's just stepping outside for a minute to scream, she'll be fine. When you say 'vulnerable', what do you mean?" 

"A good scream from her ought to do it, a claw to the back of the neck from you, whatever it is this one can do- be creative, they'll appreciate that."

"Not for very long they won't."

"An admirable approach."

He reaches for the bandage around his forehead, and begins to remove it.

Scott watches the other door, waiting for Lydia to return.

What's underneath the bandages?

It's. A hole. In his head. Straight through.

She can see the wall, through it. It's red, raw like it's just been opened, but she can see the wall through it.

And if she looks, there's a black, inky darkness just there...

No she wants the bandages back on right now.

"That was quite rude, young lady."

"Maybe we should just leave."

Lydia steps back in, and returns him his recorder.

"I am significantly older than you are, and that looked a touch ominous. Forgive me if I am not quite willing to trust that you are completely harmless, especially given your admitted connection to these Dread Doctors."

"We got what we came for. Let's go."

"Yes, let's."

"That was something. I suppose we at least know we have to read the book to remember them."

"We should prioritize getting everyone to read it at least halfway."

"I'll run off some copies tomorrow morning."

"Any of us could have seen them...what did they do, when you saw them?"

"I was holding Stiles and a chimera that was chasing him. They appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the chimera was frightened of them. He said something about not having failed yet, still being able to succeed. I stopped them in place and asked what their purpose was. One of them blinked past me somehow, and did something that removed the chimera from my perception, and then the others disappeared as well."

"He said it would let us remember them- hopefully it's permanent."

"It must be, or he wouldn't be so proud that he wrote it. The real question is why he wanted my scream."

"I don't think it's good."

"I don't trust him."