[ An even look is held with him. Then, a sigh. It truly does seem as if any knowledge he had while writing the story is gone the moment he begins living through events. He must have had some idea at some point.

What will the effects of constantly writing himself in and out of stories be? What will happen to his memories?

She moves from behind the desk and stands in front of him. A hand raises and gestures to the chair beside them. The typical wooden chair. Then, a static seems to happen, and shows a chair made of a plush fabric and deep seated. It seems to fritz back and forth. The raised hand waves. Reality seems to ripple and then the wooden chair is entirely replaced with the plush chair.

No evidence is left to show that the wooden chair ever existed. ]

This is what I can do. Things that don't exist in one reality can be brought into this one. I call them tears. Things in reality that can be manipulated. [ Her arms cross. ] Does that clear things up for you?

[ Elizabeth hopes he will understand the bitterness in sharing her abilities. Her gaze moves back to the papers in her hands. She reads over them, pacing to one side, then to another. Something reminiscent of Alan pouring over manuscript pages. ]

...Oh.