"If you need this," the woman said, holding out a steel canister. "There’s nothing in you but some water." Flynne leaned over, saw a face not hers reflected in the round, mirror-polished bottom. Froze. "Fuck." The lips there forming the word as she spoke it. "What the fuck is this?" She came up off the bed fast. Not a bed. A padded ledge. She was taller. "Something’s wrong," she heard herself say, but the voice wasn’t hers. "Colors—"