There was a quiet moment, as the realization of this set in. He rubbed his forehead, for a moment, trying to commit to this- the last bit hit him, and there was a sense of loss. It had happened again. How? Why? Had those daft monks mucked things up again? He turned back, to look at Young Sam, to somehow reassure himself that what she was saying couldn't be true-

But the infant was gone, and the well-loved picture book, and the aging dragon. He looked older, in that instant. A cigar was carefully extricated from a silver case in his pocket, lit, and inhaled. "Alright. What's our next move, then? If I'm to be stuck in another sort of- quantum embuggerance, or what have you- I'm not gonna sit around waiting."