[The only voices Party hears when he wakes are (fortunately? unfortunately?) very, very real. But he lays in bed for a long time still, continuing to listen, waiting in case someone is watching.

[It's not Jet, why would it be Jet? It would only be Jet if they were watching. Party's arms itch badly, like the back of his neck, but for a long time he doesn't dare move to scratch. They're watching. It's a trap! A trap.

[But he's not very patient prey at all. Party Poison can only wait so long before bolting out of bed and creeping down the corridor for a look at what's happening. And it's Jet! Why would it be Jet?! For another long while (shorter than the last, but the second stretch into hours), Party just stares, glaring around the corner, stomach flipping and arms and neck itching terribly.

[He drops into a crouch (harder to see!) and whistles the first part of a tune. You should know the rest, Jet Star.]