"Benji." It's not a double-take at her name, but an affirmation via the rusted habit of old-fashioned manners, the same that prompts him to lead her up the nightmarishly unsafe stairs. (Nightmare being the key word; they need to keep moving for a reason. His head isn't a safe space.) The waterfall looks lovely from a higher vantage point, without a roof over them.

He's sturdy but distant, in that way where dreams offer more sensory input than the real waking world. Once they're up and out, he closes a wooden hatch behind them with one foot, slamming the monastery away. Though there's nothing to see or hear, a sense settles over them like they're being watched. Tom doesn't remark on it.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you."