It's his own fault, she thinks as she paddles. Every time she think she's got the server approaching some semblance of unity, of sanity, he has to go and muck it up. His childish cobblestone bridges and towers, his flights of fancy that take less wary server denizens along for the ride. Most of all, the discs. Sometimes she regrets ever having taken them, despite the need for punishment. For consequences.

Her train of thought is derailed as she notices that Tommy hasn't said anything for a while. That's not like him at all.

"Penny for your thoughts? We still have a long way to go."