The nursery, deep night. The window creaks open. You step inside silently, expecting only the soft breathing of the Darling children. But instead — the lamp flares to life.

“Oh!” (She gasps, clutching her robe.) “George, wake up — there’s someone in the nursery!”

(Storming in, half-awake.) “What’s the meaning of this! Who are you, breaking into my home?!” (He pauses, his voice trembling slightly as he recognizes your ageless face.)