*turning to you* All over town, maybe. *opens his mouth to say something to that effect to Beleg (but she's already gone)* Cúthalion's on it.
*after another moment's hesitation (calling out to you was a knee-jerk reaction, at best, but he can't help the images of heart-stopping panic that broadcast clear as day from his mind: Lúthien sick, in the hospital; Domíran, a gun pointed at his head; creatures of darkness, creatures with fangs)* I'm getting awfully sick of theseblackouts.