Kneeling in the grass, Ed gritted his teeth and said nothing. He didn't owe her any explanations, never mind a full psychoanalysis. He hadn't even wanted her here. Maybe punching kids in the head was his hobby. She could assume that if she wanted. It wouldn't make a scrap of difference.

But her question touched a nerve. "Why the hell wouldn't it matter?" he snarled, whipping round - only for his eyes to widen a little on noticing her hand. He hadn't felt it.

Less explosively, he pushed himself away from her and slumped back down, so that he was sitting rather than kneeling.

"...Didn't I already tell you?" He sounded like he'd calmed down, but it was clearly an effort. "This isn't a regular dream. If it was, I'd just have to stand by and watch. It wouldn't be real. Nobody can turn back time. But with this... maybe that isn't true any more. I don't know." He looked up. "And I know you don't either, so don't start with that.

"But that - that's why I gotta try. I'll get you out of here too, I promise. You'll see." Copying that kid's intonation wasn't intentional, but by the time he realised it, it was a little late to stop. Well, whatever - not like anyone else would notice. "Just... not yet, okay? Not while there's still a chance."