I checked the kitchen clock as I entered from the cellar. I had thirty minutes. I took the time to shower and don my costume – my sleeve was still crusty and stained yellow-white where it had come in contact with the foam, but at least it wasn’t sticky anymore.
Still not eating breakfast, huh?
I guess maybe that can wait until after the Coil guys’ visit.
My mask wasn’t wearable with the contacts. I’d taken lenses out of an old pair of glasses and set them into the construction of my mask.
I debated it for a few moments, then I decided to use the remaining time to fix it. With my knife’s point, I set about undoing that particular piece of work, prying the lenses out.
I guess that’s necessary, as long as the Fellowship is around. I suppose the mask lenses weren’t any safer than the regular glasses anyway.
This does leave Taylor’s eyes visible, if I’m not mistaken, but at least we don’t get someone manipulating glass into blinding her permanently (assuming no Panacenanigans).
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