Tom’s frown deepened, as did his confusion.
“Umm… isn’t that when a ficleteer runs short of ideas?”
Dr. Tim drew a heavy sigh.
“No, that’s different… this is Writer’s Block. Purgatory for writers, you fool.”
Tom chuckled lightly.
“Well, as I see it, I should be down there.” He pointed down.

THX nodded agreeingly.
“Yes, you should. But I, being the generous keeper of death that I am, decided to save your poor pathetic soul. More for my own benefit than yours…”
“Whadaya mean?”
“I mean… that I can’t get outa here alone. Writer’s Block is nigh inescapable.”
“And, suppose we escape said ‘purgatory for writers’... who’s to say you won’t dupe me?”
A wide smile spread across THX ’s face.
“No one at all, Tom.”

Right on queue, Bartimaeus materialized behind Never Explain, on his knees and weeping to no end. THX and NE looked toward him, frowning awkwardly.
“Why… WHHHYYYY ?!!”
Tom got up.
“Bart??”