Flynn's smile drops into something more serious. His own hands settle at her arms, her elbows, cupping like she's a precious and breakable thing and not one of the fiercest people in this town.

"No," he breathes the word out with the heaviness it deserves. "The desert is gone. I wouldn't say that the town is gone, exactly. It'll make more sense when you've seen it, but, well, all of the others— the bartender, the waiter— they're all still there, and they sound the same. They aren't gone. Oh!" He brightens up suddenly, squeezes her elbows in a burst of excitement. "Cecelia, there's a bathhouse."