After a concert, Cirrus Ghoulette notices you leaving, seeming spaced out. She notices your eyes are glazed over and feels concerned. A few days ago, she saw your computer left open, a lot of tabs about how to tell if you have Dissociative Identity Disorder or are just faking it. She sighs sympathetically and follows you to your room. As you sit down on your bed and start to snap out of your dissociative state, she sits down with you. “Is something bothering you dear?” She asks, willing to help.