I know I must look absurd with my mouth hanging open. Unfortunately, much as I’d like to deny it, that explains a lot of things . . . why you disappear sometimes, the slight resemblance that man had to you, even why you were looking into multiple personalities the first time I met you.

I draw a deep breath, hoping that the blood pressure monitor on my finger isn’t picking up what this conversation is doing to me, because I don’t want to be interrupted by a well-meaning nurse, not when I’m finally getting some answers out of you.

“If . . . If I accept this is true, are you saying that Jackson somehow cast you, Karl Urban, as Éomer and you are so close to him in spirit that he can cross from his world to yours? Did this happen to the rest of the cast, too?”