Theobald's head jerked around and he blinked blearily. The voice was Efi's... or was it Cyril's? No, he shook his head, there was nobody there, just shadows and smoke and blinking neon lights.

More veils to hide behind... no true deception, though. Never lies any more.

You thought you had gotten away with it, thought you had gotten your story straight, even thought you had convinced yourself of the lies because they were interlaced with truth and as long as you never looked at them head on for what they were, even a dragon couldn't eat them... but that only meant they were invisible and still creeping up on you and slowly growing larger and more complicated as they heaped up on each other in a sludgy mess, then they ate each other for sustenance and you couldn't remember which lies you still used and which had ever been true, and...

And then they turned into something so large and so vicious that even a dragon couldn't handle them.

His pounding headache returned. He downed the beer and yelled for another one, hoping he didn't sound too drunk or desperate to be served. It was the only thing that nullified the pain any more, that allowed him to sleep even with the nightmares lazily floating over him like hunting sharks, swiping at him with vile, shadowy claws.

He wondered if they had always been there and Efi had just been eating more of his lies than she realised, nibbling away at the residue that bubbled up to the surface, stopping it from boiling over. Although - he swore - there wouldn't be any more, maybe there was still a lot to bleed out of his system before he would be dry.

Or maybe they were just regular nightmares, the bad sort that you got when memories this painful weighed on your mind...

Another drink was in front of his hand, so he drained it, letting its merciful haze take him.