Isaac gave her a small grin. "Don't get me thinking about that," his voice was almost humorous, but also a little sad. "It hits a little too close to home. It... Yes, that does make sense, though. On small scales and big ones... Either we're just wired that way, or conditioned so, but..." he sighed. He really was so sick of his fate being controlled by someone else, and that someone wasn't even Dillon.

Then Micheal spoke up.

Isaac tilted his head, looking at the new tree. "Hmm... Well that's... Unsettling." He took a step closer to get a look at the rot and the fungus. "I've seen that things can change around us in our sleep as well, so... Well..." He tilted his head the other way. "What were you thinking about? Where and when did you say you were from?"

He took a step back away from the tree again. Who knew what that fungus was capable of. "I don't really care if you guys make stuff here, but... I dunno, this thing looks like... a health hazard? You don't mind if I... Clean it up a bit do you? Let's look the other way for a moment."

Once they all did and looked back, the tree was still black and still dead, but much less disgusting in appearance. It was elegantly twisted black wood without bark. There was no rot or fungus anymore.

He stretched, reaching upward for a moment, before letting his body relax again. "So... Shall we all stay here and discuss philosophy, or do we want to take advantage of our surroundings and go mess around? I have a Porsche just over the hills over there. That's like... A horseless carriage to you, Micheal. A really really good one."

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