"A convincing pattern, one that I sadly do not deviate from," Rosalind tells him and, considering how helpful he's been thusfar, sees no harm in sharing additional information. "Before I arrived here, I was with my--"

It happens so fast that if you blinked you'd miss it.

As Skulduggery lacks eyelids, he gets a full, likely disorienting view of Rosalind's superposition as it collapses into one again. The woman standing in front of him ceases, fading abruptly into nothing like a spent flashbulb and the afterimage trailing after the conga line, just a few feet away, is suddenly doubled on itself and then both doubles crash together. This version gives off what can only be described as the exact opposite of a flashbulb effect. She solidifies in the next instant and her casual gait is interrupted as she stumbles, suddenly lacking sufficient momentum to carry herself forward.

"--often do the objects on board do such things?" Her question is half of a different question, part of another conversation entirely and, as she finishes it, she goes momentarily silent.

"Oh, that's terribly inconvenient," she announces, largely to herself, and turns back to face Skulduggery. There's a terrible tinny noise in her ears as the two realities become one and she is quite certain, in a moment, she will be bleeding from the nose.

"I say, do you have a spare handkerchief, Mr. Pleasant?"