Mytchell had been standing quietly beside and slightly behind Salare, arms crossed in front of him, listening. It was a skill he'd developed rather well in the years beyond counting that he'd spent as an advisor of sorts to the Sandman. A storm of fear, worry and calculative thought swirled inside him as he inwardly searched for a solution to their problem. He, more than any others, had encouraged the experiment, having seen every step of his friend's downhill spiral in recent years. It had been an easier job before; people had risen and slept with the daylight hours, with no electricity or technology to keep them awake. 

But lamenting about the past was no way to handle the present, he knew. Each spirit in the Sandman's inner circle had spoken in this meeting except for himself. So, stepping forward, the Phantom cleared his throat, bringing out his watch and opening it, holding up the struggling clock face to the other spirits in the room. 

"Our situation [I]can[/I] be remedied," he stated, gesturing to the watch, held up by its chain. "These clocks are still trying to move on, but something is stopping them, and keeping their respective humans in a state between sleep and wakefulness." As a demonstration, he twisted the wheel at the top of the watch, a function that would normally move the hands of the watch to force a human to wake or to sleep. However, he wheel had no effect, as if it weren't connected to any mechanism. 

"Now, I have a theory: judging by this," he continued, "It seems that instead of [I]pausing[/I] time, we've only blocked it from moving forward. This has likely trapped the five remaining humans in a middle state, a lucid dream, if you will. Of course, I'm only speculating, and I would assume that their state is on the far more real side of dreaming, if that." He snapped his watch closed and tucked it back into his chest, filling the spot where a heart would be. 

"My point is that we have no other choice than to go to the human realm, and hopefully find out what this blockage is. And I'm sure you will all [I]agree-[/I]" he eyed Arguis, having caught the Enforcer's tone, "-that this is of priority to [i]all[/i] of us." 

Mytchell knew that his theory was only just that; theory. For all he knew, he could be way off, and he probably was. After all, in all his years of assisting Salare, he'd never encountered a situation like this. But his job was to solve problems, and he had to at least try to unserstand them in order to do so.