The Scarecrow remained silent for a moment as Mele talked, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. It wasn't so long ago that he'd contemplated if the Wizard Landel really was telling the truth and that all he knew as a scarecrow and of Oz was just some figment of his imagination. In a strange way, he was grateful for the awful things that he'd faced in the Institute: if he'd not seen first-hand just how cruel Landel could be, he might have believed those lies.

"That was the idea in Oz. See, I didn't have a brain as a scarecrow." He pointed to his head. "Only straw up there. I'm not sure it works quite the same way here, though. The human body is a curious thing."

The Scarecrow finally tore his eyes from the writing on the ceiling. "Now I've got to admit that Wizard Landel does have some awfully convincing methods," he admitted. "With what the visitors say and all the nurses and now these boxes. I imagine those who aren't aware of just how wicked he is could fall for it."

He frowned, thinking of Dorothy. She was so sweet and trusting. Though she'd had the power to leave Oz with only a click of her heels, it seemed it took more to escape from the Institute.