Rosalind, suddenly freed from the invisible influence of the conga line, stumbles along as he pulls her to safety. She offers no resistance or complaints as they step further from the endless parade of inanimate (and animate) objects. Watching the line reform in her wake is terribly fascinating though.

"What an interesting phenomenon," Rosalind comments idly. "Is this normal here?"

She asks the dapper skeleton that still has her arm. Ah, right, that.

"Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but are you normal here?"