It was official. Dante must be tripping balls. He must have mixed the wrong pills with the wrong amount of booze last night, and this was his fever dream. He hoped he didn’t talk in his sleep about this, or else someone might be able to blackmail him for life. Hell, if his mom found out he was having this dream, he’d start seeing her for therapy.
“Can’t you just make an exception, Judy?” the other woman (other Judy?) asked, though her tone of voice suggested she already knew the answer. Judy (Judy 1.0?) pivoted so that she was between Dante and what must have been her clone.