That doesn't make much less sense than her previous reactions, to Bastien, but enough that he finally has to stop pretending to have some idea what she's talking about. He shifts back, still crouches, hands on his knees, and says, "Pardon?"
She actually feels a bit of sympathy for the poor sod, considering she'd been in his shoes not too long ago. Or very long ago. Now that she's aware of the game they're in, the past has that strange sort of soupy quality to it.
"The illusions you lot have in your heads when you sleep at night." She tips her head at him, "Dreams. Only the bad kind." Then she squints, "Well, it's a bad one for me, anyhow. I suppose you have your own feelings about it."
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"The illusions you lot have in your heads when you sleep at night." She tips her head at him, "Dreams. Only the bad kind." Then she squints, "Well, it's a bad one for me, anyhow. I suppose you have your own feelings about it."