Lose touch with reality completely...? Lunge blinked, surprised. That wasn't something he'd heard specifically in a relatively long time. It sounded like something Landel might have inflicted on them as one of his nightly games, but if that were the case he'd have fully expected the bulletin board to be crammed full of oblique references to the suffering of other patients and their friends.

Tracing back through his memory he'd spotted a likely candidate without realising it- unsigned, in handwriting he hadn't recognised, asking about 'dreams within dreams'- but no one had answered when he'd looked. Yes, one man was an irregularity for certain.

"I've never heard of something like that affecting only one person," Lunge answered, tapping the end of his fork lightly on the tabletop in thought, "and those are generally hinted at by Landel before the night begins."

There was, however, one possible answer- and it was a simple one at that. He knew it better than anyone, after all. A pause- then Lunge looked back up at Badd, expression unreadable. "Do you know if the person had undergone a night-shift torture session? The aftereffects of those can vary wildly."