Cue another round of trying and failing to interject. Eventually: "Yes, I've heard all that." The boy raises his hand and waggles his talon ended fingers. The pulse of the rift shard winks from the center of the palm. "And ignored it, because it's not possible. Spirits don't dream. We don't even sleep."

Or they're not meant to. Strangely enough, he keeps finding his attention wandering so far and for such long stretches of time that he could almost swear-- but that's not the point either.

"I'm not like you. I don't belong in places like this. I can't be here if someone hasn't dragged me kicking and screaming. It sounds to me like whatever they've told you is true can't be. And if you're here, and I'm here, there's nothing to say you're not what's shackling me here whether you remember anything about it or not."

So maybe she isn't the Kitty Jones who summoned him. Maybe something strange happened to them both on the way to this place. But she is still some kind of Kitty Jones and maybe the laws of nature and magic that link spirits and their summoners are just doing the best they can in a confusing situation. Who hasn't been there, right? Which means... --which means!

A sudden light finds the boy's dark eyes. His clawed hands surge forward like he might snatch at her shirt collar or grab her by the shoulders, then stop halfway to it.

"You need to dismiss me!"