I don't think I like precog

Reality and I have regained passing familiarity with one another. I am no longer haunted by images of Nikola Tesla feeding the elephants sawdust beneath epilepsy-inducing red spotlights, and that is absolutely fine by me. After three solid days of utterly deranged hallucination perhaps now periods of sleep greater than two hours a night will be again within my grasp.

Je suis désolé, Marie-Ange. Ta for the assist, apologies that it resulted in physical assault. I believe I owe you dinner. Or possibly footing of the bill for one with your paramour, as to hear some of my flatmates tell it I am not to be trusted with members of the opposite sex. Whichever is to your preference.

Incidentally: your power doesn't so much have an "off" switch, does it?

. . . Bugger. Now I have to reset my "Number of Days Since Last Attack" counter. I was up to two sodding months, too. This is the last time I volunteer for manual labour on a marrow donation of uncertain metabolism.