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You dig through your pockets with increasing desperation for something to offer the ghost as you start to shiver. The boy's monotone continues even as you look at him and say through chattering teeth, "I'm sorry but I don't have anything."
You feel your Life Force clock speed up and you hug yourself, the cold swiftly becoming intolerable. Sir Escart is crying out something into your ear but you can't make out what he's saying, only that it's a dire warning. Get out? Maybe that's it! You stagger towards the one exit to the right, but your legs have seized up too much for you to walk and you collapse.
All the time, the ghost keeps on droning. The last thing you hear as you curl into foetal position to try to conserve what heat you can is his "Woe is me, woe is me" mantra. Your efforts to keep warm are unsuccessful and you succumb. By the time another living being passes through this kitchen you are frozen solid.