[Siffrin's gaze is distant, turned inward - they're still nervously prodding at their memory, hoping (or dreading) that they'll spark something. But after a few moments they focus.]

[Their tail lashes once or twice, uncomfortably. But then they force out a soft huff.] And what's my baggage, a tiny handbag?

[Oh, that was terrible. But she did have to deal with experiencing their time loops too, in some form. That's not something they'd wish on anyone either!]

Just as long as you don't tell me I'm not remembering turning into the King, like in some play, [they add, joking. And then pause.]

[...no, no way, right?]

[If they didn't remember, though - no, nope, not thinking about this! Forget that! Bad joke!]

If I remember... I'll tell you. [Or try to, at least. Who knows what they might end up with.]

[And in return:] But. Um. If you have another bad week, or keep having them, tell me? If talking would help...?