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After Hookbill's treatment of Mr Freud, Fléin had been ushered away by a nurse. She kept stepping on his feet, which was quite a feat in itself, considering he was walking behind her. Behind him, he heard weeping, then frantic mumbling, before Doctor Hookbill was out of sight.
The nurse informed him that until Freud was reassembled from his many pieces, Fléin would have to wait in this here waiting room. She apologised for the inconvenience and assured him that, as soon as Freud was remade, his appointment would resume. She made to leave.
"Wait a second! Didn't that explosion kill Freud?" Fléin asked.
"Of course not. Why would it?"
"Well," Fléin assumed the air of one in deep thought, "one would presume the distribution of his innards over his office would be detrimental to his general health," he finished drily.
The nurse laughed at him. "Oh, don't be so silly! Deus ex machina!" she giggled mystically before shoving him into the waiting room and wandering off.
Fléin closed the door behind him, apprehensive of what appeared to be a chance of peace in this lunatic hospital.
"Speaking of Deus..." a voice boomed behind him, and he swivelled around immediately. There, in the centre of the violent pink room, was a huge shadow in the shape of a great lion. Black wisps of smoke were wreathed around it like mist, obscuring it somewhat, but there was no mistaking its shape. For a long moment, Fléin believed Freud was right about his delusions - this couldn't be real!
The antilion bowed. "Fléin son of Fréin. Hail. I am A Slan."
"A Slan?! But you're on the move!"
"Not anymore," the beast rumbled. "I have found my quarry."
Fléin felt choked. "But... A Slan... Why have you been searching for me?"
A Slan laughed, and his rumbling was so deep the floor shook. "You are not my quarry, Fléin Fréinson. I come merely to ask you, for you have not yet replied to my agents: Do you stand with me or against me?"
Fléin pondered the situation before replying, "I hope you don't mind, A Slan, but I have no idea what's going on. Your agents weren't very helpful. If you could summarise the situation, perhaps I could make a decision."
"There is no time to explain."
"Then I must remain neutral, your Slanness."
The antilion bowed once more, a most curious sight, then stood up proudly. "I must find Anakron!" he roared, and bounded off, the door of the waiting room mysteriously opening itself for him.
"Wait!" Fléin cried. "Anakron is your quarry?"
A Slan looked back over his shoulder at the dwarf, smiled, and said "Of course." He bounded off once again, but this time with Fléin at his heels, struggling and failing to keep up.
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