Caradog wakes in horror, and a grimy toilet stall, and the cold knowledge that he doesn’t know his own first name. But here–on his hand–sweaty blue pen: AK 89TH W.3

That’s the key, he knows it. Caradog lunges out into the bathroom and sees someone–there’s no time for trust! He smashes the surprised man’s head into a sink, then grabs his face and shoves him back into the stall.

Some time later, Pensieve wakes. Where is he? Who is he? He stumbles out of the stall and–there, in the mirror, blue pen backwards on his cheek–