Any other situation would not have left Guybrush feeling so alarmed. This one, however, had just followed him getting a cutlass to the gut, so one assumes he had reason to be a little jumpy.

Or, you know, as jumpy as someone can be when they’re naked and covered in sticky goop. How his hook managed to stay suction-cupped to his wrist was a mystery to him—why he still had the hook at all and not his clothing was even more curious. But even Guybrush Threepwood, the attention-lacking pirate that he was, knew that was hardly what he needed to be focusing on right now.

There was that voice in his head, after all. In a way it reminded him disturbingly of the Voodoo Lady. Perhaps it was the Voodoo Lady. She was certainly ambiguous enough to fit the profile. And this sounded like a quest to him.

“Holding the Comb, got it,” Guybrush nodded absently, glancing around with expectant eyes (and completely ignoring the slime-covered nude lady standing nearby), “I’ll do that right after I find Elaine. She’s here, right? I mean honestly, she was standing right next to me—she couldn’t have gone far.”

And then, obnoxiously loud:

“ISN’T THAT RIGHT ELAINE?”

…Funny, she didn’t answer back. “Right? Elaine?...Plunder Bunny?”