The noise in his mind rose and fell, as though a massive source of interference hovered around his brain, now close, now distant. The antique shop in his view maintained its stability; however, from time to time, dark things flitted between the shelves, as if to show the reckless Visitor a perilous truth from Subspace.
Morris sat cautiously in front of the counter, containing his thoughts and emotions. In the brief lucidity granted by the God of Wisdom Rahm, he pondered each question with limited and earnest effort.
The conversation continued. As long as the man opposite him, whom he referred to as "Mr. Duncan," delighted in it, Morris, as the "companion," was obliged to entertain him.
However, Duncan was not talking at the moment—he too was deep in thought, contemplating matters related to the Black Sun and the contamination of history.