TDM #3

[apocalypsehowmods]

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➥ Arrival

(cw: potential for severe disorientation/vertigo, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, body horror)

It happens in the blink of an eye. You may have been asleep. You may not have. You may have stepped through a door or turned a corner. You may have seen a flicker of something at the corner of your vision and turned to look. Or maybe you didn't.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that you find yourself somewhere entirely new and entirely unfamiliar. The arrival point is not always the same. (If you're lucky, it might be a canteen or an open office. If you're not, well... you aren't claustrophobic, are you? Or arachnophobic. These ducts do seem to be a bit cobwebby.) There is no one waiting for you but you don’t seem to be alone, either. Even in a janitor’s closet or the bathroom, you’ll find at least one person who seems to be just as out of place as you are.

If characters have arrived in a location devoid of NPCs, they may want to work together to figure out what is going on... or to avoid their 'kidnappers.' If you’ve arrived in the middle of the entry foyer or the gym, there may well be a few people who startle a bit at your arrival and try to approach (or discreetly leave the room... where are they going?). Will you cooperate or fight? Do you even understand what they're saying? You might need to find a translator, if you’re not immediately willing to follow a stranger.

After characters follow their new hosts (or are forcibly taken in) there will be a limited tour and the chance to settle in at the ADI-provided housing. (Do you enjoy living with strangers? Well. It's a new situation to navigate, anyway.)

➥ The Butcher's Camp

(cw: animal death, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism, potential for flesh/small limb removal)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, though. That's far too much paperwork, you'd been assured with a wink from the employee who'd directed you to the park trailhead. You've been left with another person. Maybe they're a new arrival, as well, or a more seasoned 'veteran.' Either way, you're together for the next while and you've been asked to find and record any paranormal activity in the park. You have your phones and any other equipment you might have brought with you. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit.

This month characters who venture into Dogtown will eventually stumble across what seems to be an abandoned camp. Its usage is fairly obvious: the remains of a hunting camp. And remains really is the operative word, considering that whoever used the camp wasn’t particularly fastidious about cleaning up after themselves. There are bits of various animal carcasses strewn around and by the looks of things the prey of these hunters was quite varied. Not all of them are prey animals either.

Stepping into the camp seems to have an effect: anyone who passes over the threshold to investigate will find themselves powerfully driven to mark themselves - or their partner - with lines that seem to indicate where a butcher might cut. There are black, red, and white paint pens littered around the camp that are perfect for this exercise. As they proceed, they will get the sense that once the lines are completely drawn, something will be coming along to make use of them.

Staying too long after those marks are completed - either through curiosity or through some other force - will result in a sudden unconsciousness. And when you wake up? (If you wake up…) Well. It seems the butcher has returned and taken just a bit more flesh. At least the wound is properly dressed, though. Thank goodness for small mercies.

➥ Mirror, Mirror

(cw: altered perceptions and unreality/hallucination, body horror, dissociation, wounds, cancer, stalking)

Something is wrong with the mirrors.

Everywhere around Gloucester - at ADI headquarters, in ADI housing, at Bonnie's Flophouse, even in the bathrooms of mundane businesses (and, presumably, the homes of the innocent and uninvolved), looking in the mirror has become...risky. It's not predictable; it doesn't happen every time and may or may not happen to any given person the same way twice, but look into the reflection and you may see something that should not be there.

Perhaps your own reflection has changed, a face (human or monstrous) you don't recognize looking back at you, eerily in sync as though it has every right to be your true reflection… or un-synced from your movements, smiling knowingly at your distress.

Or maybe you still see your own face, but something about your body is warped, wrong: a growth or a seeping wound you can't find on your own physical form but that exists glaring and insistent in your reflection and feels, somehow, as though it's there in phantom form.

Maybe it's a pair of eyes watching from over your shoulder, hiding in the shadows, peering at you from every mirror you pass. Is it watching you from your reflection in that window, too? Is it growing nearer?

Possibly there's nothing wrong with your reflection at all, but the reflection of the room behind you stretches and twists, a view into an impossible, broken world that leaves you dizzy and wandering, lost down an imagined maze of hallways or following a phantom figure until someone else can snap you out of it.

Something is wrong with the mirrors. Best not to look again, lest you find out what else they have to show you.

➥ Haunting Tunes

(cw: hallucination, hypersomnia, vehicular accidents, potential for injury)

The summer is fading, and businesses around Gloucester have taken note. Fall decorations go up, and even some very early Halloween decor is on sale. The air is crisper in the mornings and evenings, the ocean breeze just a bit stiffer. There also seems to be a new melody floating around the town, one that leaves people feeling fatigued, heavy. Did you hear a snatch of it near the docks? Something that's vaguely familiar to you, nostalgic, almost. Maybe it's more a memory?

That song or memory seems to grow stronger when approaching the graveyards scattered throughout Gloucester. So, too, does the fatigue. Wouldn't it be nice to just sit down and rest? To close your eyes and let every worry that troubles your mind be soothed into the quiet oblivion of sleep?

Those most affected might find themselves passing out, and they always seem to do it when they are putting themselves in the most danger. You might drop while crossing a busy street or while riding a bike or some other wheeled mode of transportation. Those who investigate will find that traffic accidents seem to have seen an uptick recently, associated with the onset of these haunting tunes. They seem to be focused on the graveyards, but there's nothing immediately apparent there that might be causing problems.

Drink lots of coffee, and be careful trying to do anything. Stepping outside could be the last thing you do.

➥ Mod Notes

• ARRIVAL (Sep 1 - 21): Two people will always arrive in the same general location together. Arrivals occur throughout the early month, not all on the same day or in the same place. Arrivals are not naturally fluent in English/other languages immediately upon arrival. Characters may attempt to evade capture, but they will eventually be snagged before they can leave the building. PC's already in-game are more than welcome to interact with and try to guide new PC's to get them oriented. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
  
  
• THE BUTCHER'S CAMP (Sep 1- 24): Characters will only encounter the camp once. Everyone will feel the compulsion to draw carving lines along their own skin or that of the person they're with. If they stick around for long enough, they will pass out and may not wake up again. Those who do wake up will find that a piece of their flesh is missing and the wound has been bandaged. Whatever is taken will be non-fatal, but it will likely be inconvenient (e.g., some part of their calf or forearm, perhaps a finger or toe). Once ADI is made aware of injuries happening, they will stop sending people to Dogtown for training and only send people with the understanding that this is a potentially dangerous mission. Please bear in mind that if a character dies in the TDM prompt, they are dead. A different version who doesn't have TDM memories may be apped in their place. Similarly, injuries will not magically disappear. If your character loses a chunk of themselves, it is gone unless they can find someone who might be able to magically heal them. No one at ADI will offer this service, just mundane medical assistance. Magical healing is reserved for fatal injuries given the price of it!
  
  
• MIRROR, MIRROR (Sep 1- 24): Characters may encounter a mirror effects multiple times, and may experience the same effect each time or different ones. As noted in the prompt, there is no apparent rhyme or reason to when any particular mirror exhibits any particular effect. Within the first week of the effects becoming known, ADI will cover all the mirrors within their headquarters and send out an advisory for characters to do the same in their homes. Characters who experiment and/or interview locals will, after a lot of legwork, be able to ascertain that the effects seem to be most concentrated on the west side of town, nearest the empty fields where the Fenix Down Extravaganza had set up their circus tents last month, with additional concentrations around ADI-affiliated buildings and Bonnie's Flophouse. Mirror effects will gradually grow less frequent over the course of the month and cease to occur after the 24th.
  
  
• HAUNTING TUNES (Ongoing Effect): The tunes will be oddly familiar to the character, even if they are not from modern Earth. There are currently no ill effects from the song apart from inducing fatigue in characters. They can fight it off with coffee/caffeine, or other things they'd typically use to wake themselves up, but that tiredness always returns. An examination of the graveyard will not turn up a specific source. It just seems to be something there.
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jack √ tales from the gas station

[stations]

arrival

( Jack doesn't need any help to feel disoriented; adding the arrival fog to that is a little bit like trying to drown a fish. He doesn't even notice at first when the counter behind his back turns into tile, nor the wall turned into a metal stall door. He seems vacant, spaced out, staring out into nothing for a long stretch of seconds.

A couple of things might stand out.

First, he's arrived with two things (three, if you count the prosthetic leg): an ice chest on the floor beside him that he seems to be heavily leaning on, and a Louisville Slugger clutched against his torso like a seatbelt.

Second, he looks like shit. Seriously like shit, with dark bruises under his eyes, a little too thin, and what seems to be blood in his hair and on his clothes — as well as the baseball bat.

If left uninterrupted, he'll come back to himself slowly. Clearly confused, a little delirious, and with absolutely terrible vertigo when he tries (with middling success) to actually stand. If disturbed, he'll blink rapidly like he's coming out of a long sleep, tighten his hand around the handle of the bat, but show no other outright signs of aggression yet. He'll offer up a hilariously neutral, polite: )

Um. Hi.

mirror, mirror

( After the clean-up and the initial introduction to the world around him, Jack still seems dazed. He carries the small ice chest around with him wherever he goes, and when anyone attempts to part him from his baseball bat he offers them a polite refusal of, no thanks. He's got it on the bathroom counter beside him in the bathroom as he washes his hands, scrubbing his face with the water like he's trying to snap himself out of something.

When he lifts his eyes, it isn't his own face he notices first, but rather the one over his shoulder. Grinning.

Spencer. Fucking. Middleton. looks him right in the eyes and drawls out an amused, "Hiya, Jack."

He moves his hand slowly, reaching for the bat. As soon as he's got it, he spins around and swings. )

misc.

( → Jack's willing to go poke around spooky ghost butcher town, and he'll seem perhaps bizarrely calm no matter what they see, even when the creeping impulse to mark out lines on himself or his partner hits.
→ The music doesn't appear to affect him (emphasis on appear), so when someone else in proximity begins to lull he'll jump in to try and course-correct the situation.
→ Absolutely wildcard me!
→ Hit me up rifting for any questions! )

Arrival

[henchgal]

[Meredith's been around for a while; she knows the look of a new arrival, and the bloody bat seems to be a sign that he's Been Through Some Shit. But at the same time, he's blocking access to (ironically) the accessible stall in the ladies' room.

She clears her throat softly, lightly tapping the side of the ice chest with her cane to get his attention.]

Good afternoon. I'm certain you'd like an explanation for what's going on, and I'd be glad to give it to you, after I use that stall. Would you mind waiting by the sink?

[stations]

( For the first time in a long time, he doesn't recognize the person standing over him. Eyes gone wide, posture a little defensive, it takes him a solid three seconds to even process what she said. When he finally does, his eyes go from her to the stall. The stall to the room around them. The room back to her.

Dude, you're blocking the way, stop being a dick and let the lady pass. )

Oh. Um. Okay.

( He says uncertainly, releasing the ice chest in order to press his hand against the wall for leverage. His other hand uses the bat as a kind of makeshift crutch, fighting through the dizziness and the one little wobble his prosthetic gives before he manages to find his balance. )

Sorry.

( He edges out of the way with his back pressed against the row of sinks, scooting a few inches at a time until both him and his chest have cleared the path.

Should he- he should go, right? No, wait, she said wait by the sink. Is it a great idea to listen to her? Well, maybe not, but it's not like he's got any better idea what in the hell's going on right now.

As he waits, in the relative quiet of the bathroom he murmurs at the chest- )

Jerry?

( In his mind, he hears I know, dude, she's smokin'. Don't blow it. He hisses back: )

Not what I was asking.

[henchgal]

[She notices the difficulty he has walking, how he's leaning on the bat for support. Something to discuss later, once other things are taken care of. Other things come first.

While she's in the stall, she hears him talking, and that's concerning, but also not immediate--unless he ends up having delusions about her being dangerous. That's happened before. Still, until she knows what she's dealing with, she's going to be the very picture of a helpful model employee. As she joins him at the sinks, she favors him with another opaque smile.]

Thank you for waiting for me. I know this situation's probably frightening--I dealt with the same, a couple months back. My name is Meredith. You're in the second floor ladies' room at Apex Detectives Inc. You're currently in Gloucester, Massachusetts, and the year is 2021. This is not the universe you come from, and we don't know how to get you back to where you come from. Or me, or any of the other off-worlders, for that matter.

[stations]

( Don't worry, stranger. He's a good guy, he's not psychopathic murderer crazy. Just. Monster murderer crazy. That doesn't sound much better, but there's totally a difference, and he has a 100% success rate on differentiating between the two. So far.

He seems lucid enough as she talks, seems like he's tracking, seems to be taking it all a little... too well, actually.

Discreetly - or as discreetly as he can, given the circumstances, he nudges the box with the lowered handle of his bat. Weigh in here, manifestation of his dead best friend.

She's not one of them, dude, it's fine, shoot your shot.

Fucking... hallucination Jerry. Now is not the time to half-wingman him. Not even the good half, where he's the one that talks to the girl. Not that it matters. This isn't important. Shit. Focus. )

Ok.

( He says maybe two or three seconds after she finishes speaking. Another short pause, and then finally a follow-up: )

Hey, so. Why... exactly... am I here?

[henchgal]

That's a great question, a very important question. Unfortunately, it's one we don't have a definitive answer to. This has been going on a while, people arriving from other worlds. Luckily, they all arrive in this building, and ADI is equipped to help people in this situation. You're going to have a place to stay, while you're here. Money. Work. You're stranded, but not in a situation that is impossible to tolerate.

[She takes the time to wash her hands, deliberately avoiding looking in the mirror.]

You see, Apex Detectives is a front organization for the Apocalypse Disruption Initiative, ADI. We're actually very useful to the organization's mission.

slams an absolute wildcard at you. lmk if it's alright!

[carmesi]

[wanda is at the general store hoping to get some more tea because, well, she's running low. she expects this to be a quick trip—in and out, get back to the flophouse, and make herself a cup of tea just as the drizzle she currently runs under turns into a proper pouring of rain.

as she steps inside, her attention is drawn by one particular man about her age hauling about an ice chest.

with a look at the employee at the register and getting nothing but a lazy greeting, wanda stares warily at the guy who is just... standing there... seemingly just staring at the shelf with an assortment of things. the tea blends are just on the opposite shelf, and so she stands there, awkwardly, her back to him, trying not to stare at the fact that he looks like absolute shit.]

...

[......]

Are you — alright?

no and how dare u, the audacity, i never

[stations]

( He's standing there, his eyes are open, and aside from the fact that he hasn't actually moved in about four minutes there's nothing obviously wrong with him. It's just that he's not here. Not really. His mind's a universe away, but more importantly and much more literally, he's actually dreaming. He's the lightest possible variant of REM sleep, and it doesn't seem to have impacted his body in the slightest.

In his mind he's in a similar store, but it's in much the same state as him - absolute shit. He's kept it up as best he can, mopping up monster blood and straightening up the contents of the shelves, but they're near empty because he ran out of money forever ago - seriously, who in their right mind would leave him ownership of a business, he has no idea what he's doing - and the supply trucks stopped taking his hopeful IOUs. It's not Wanda he senses behind him, and it isn't her speaking. )

No. Not really.

( He admits quietly to Rosa, who wears a similar disposition of uncomfortable concern.

Dude, the thing in the cooler - which very much is in the waking world - mutters pointedly to him in his mind, snap out of it, you're being weird. You're missing out on a total ten right now.

Snap out of what? Ten what?

He catches sight of her in his peripheral vision finally, after a faintly bewildered doubletake. )

Oh. ( Well. This is awkward. ) ...Hello. I'm not shoplifting. Which... I realize in hindsight you probably weren't thinking until I said I wasn't shoplifting, which is something a guy who was totally shoplifting would say, but I'm not, I swear.

i'm crying,, suddenly need to know everything about his canon

[carmesi]

[this is very awkward.

it doesn't really bemuse wanda as much as it might have under different circumstances. it just kind of — really heightens the fact that this guy is not alright.

slowly, while still trying to figure out what to say to him in response, wanda grabs at a box of tea (did she even check the flavor? not really) and finally turns to the guy.]

I don't work here.

[which is to say... she wouldn't care if he was shoplifting.]

Do you need a doctor?

ITS A WILD RIDE and also the funniest audiobook(s) u will ever listen to in ur life

[stations]

( Ah, right. Why would he even assume she did, it's not like she's wearing a nametag or anything, she's just a normal person doing normal stuff like not talking to their friend in another universe who totally hasn't spoken to him in months after the whole shooting somebody thing. God, not one part of anything he'd been thinking in the last ten minutes had made any sense, had it?

A confused pause. )

No. Why would I need a doctor?

( Guess who has two thumbs, only one pinky, and has no idea how shitty he looks right now?

This guy. )

it sounds it! i have so many questions

[carmesi]

[she meets his confused pause with her own — wait for it — confused pause.]

I...

[no, whatever she wants to say she bites back down as she closes her mouth, a frown on her expression as if she were trying to stitch together something intelligible about this situation.

well, in any case, she motions at the shelf he was standing in front of.]

Do you ... want any of those?

[cookies, crackers?]

mirror mirror

[horrifictie]

[ a good ten seconds after the initial swing, jack will hear a round of knocks coming from the outside of the bathroom. from the other side a man with a roughness to his voice talks: ]

Hey, anyone in here? I heard a crash.

[ well, it was less a crash and more a smash. harry doesn't want to intrude, but he's also incapable of minding his own business. this is a middle ground for him between leaving and barging in. ]

[stations]

( He really, really wishes he could say this was the first time he's confused a hallucination with reality. Hell, he can't even pinpoint that it has anything to do with the mirror, or this place, or anything other than his own... crazy... fucked up head.

In any case, his paranoia brought him to swinging into the empty air behind him - a first, he's usually way more composed about this. Calmly talk first, assess the situation, then go into fight or flight mode. A small voice in his head kindly informs him it's probably because he's starting to deteriorate.

Anyway, slight correction, the air is empty-ish. Spencer-less, but there's still definitely a set of stalls there who don't take too kindly to being hit full-force with a bat. The resistance slams into his arms, he can feel the immediate backlash in his muscles and joints.

Um. OW.

It explains the hitched strain in his voice when he calls out an otherwise stupidly light, casual: )

Occupied!

( ...it's a multiple stall bathroom, Jack, you moron. )

[horrifictie]

[ LOGIC [Easy: Success] - How can a bathroom with multiple stalls be occupied by one man? It can't be.

VOLITION [Formidable: Failure] - It's no good: you're much too curious about what's going on inside to not investigate. It's in your nature as a detective. ]

Hang on, I'm coming in. [ he announces, feeling almost obligated to, before pushing open the door and peeking his head in. a mid-40s man with a scruffy beard, covering almost all his face save his chin, looks into the bathroom. ] Hey are you...

Why do you have a bat?

[stations]

( Jack's first couple of days here have not been going all that great. As a matter of fact, he's made an absolute travesty out of almost every first impression he's made on any of the people around him. Man, if he thought he was on the struggle bus before, it doesn't hold a candle to six months in near complete isolation — the unhelpful exceptions being a hallucination of his dead best friend and the recurring monster attacks. All in all, he could use a little...

Chill. He could use a little chill. Get your shit together, man. Try not to look like a crazy person to yet another stranger. Quick, come up with a good excuse, you can do it, you've gotten better at lying on the fly, just reach deep down and-- )

...Spiders.

( God damn it. )

[horrifictie]

[ DRAMA [Easy: Success] - Sire, he is an even worse actor than you!
RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - Ok, obviously he is lying. But to what end? People only lie when they have something to hide. Is it worth uncovering the truth? ]

Riiiight. [ not right. ] Ok! If you have a spider issue, a bat seems excessive. Maybe just take your shoe off and smack it. Or don't. Spiders kill other more invasive insects after all.

mirror mirror.

[sorser]

[It’s exceedingly obvious by now that there’s something wrong with the mirrors — and that something must be done with them. If Stephen have had his magic fully at his disposal, maybe he’d be able to conjure (literally) a solution that was a bit more effective, a bit more permanent than what he’s having to rely on now. But things are never so easy, and his well of magic is so very dry compared to his capabilities in his world, so this will simply have to do: carrying about a few folded-up layers of cloth to drape across the larger reflective surfaces he can manage, which includes the ones in the bathrooms.

He notices a man when he enters, and it’s instinctual to walk over and give him some sort of warning about peering into the looking glass. To give instruction and to inform, generally, that doing so is a very bad idea.

Instead, Stephen is met with the wide swing of a bat. His cape—a red, very swoosh-y thing—rises up on its own and wraps around the makeshift weapon, slowing its momentum, but the thing still manages to smash into the sorcerer’s shoulder with enough force that’ll leave a bruise.

A hand reaches out against a stall to steady himself. His cloak pulls at the bat, puzzlingly enough.]

Let me guess— [god ow] —you saw something that startled you.

[stations]

( His heart's pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat, he can hear it in his ears, how the fuck did he manage to turn up here of all places? He would, though, wouldn't he? That crazy son of a bitch would stalk Jack across the multiverse to get his hands on him and finally-

The bat connects, and the first thing he feels is a flaring of hope, that's what you get you motherf-

Oh. Oh shit.

Hang on.

He falters dumbly, and the bat develops a case of erectile dysfunction that's truly impressive for its age. He lowers it slowly, still wary, but not Babe Ruth wary. The cloak yanks it away with an ease that's... frankly, kind of embarrassing for everyone in the room.

Things he wants to say:
Um. Hi.
Shit, I am so sorry, are you okay?
You bet your ass I saw something that startled me, please tell me you saw that, too.

Instead, what comes out is a stunned: )

I can't believe a coat has better reflexes than me.

( Actually... no, you know what, that tracks. Sadly. )

[sorser]

[Stephen reaches out with a free hand, grasping at the bat now yanked free from the other man’s grip. His cloak goes limp and hangs loosely at his shoulders again, as if it was never anything out of the ordinary to begin with.]

It has better reflexes than me.

[Straightening, he rolls his newly smarting shoulder, brows at a slant.]

Which is a good thing, otherwise I might be sporting a cracked skull. [He gives the man a once-over, not quite ready to hand the back bat yet.] You must be new. Here’s a welcoming hint: don’t look into the mirrors.

[Gesturing at said mirrors.]

You’ll see things that are unpleasant and better ignored.

[stations]

( You might think Jack would be a little bit more incredulous about that cape — any normal person would be — but by all appearances it's like he's seen it, accepted it as normal, and immediately moved on with his life in the span of about two and a half seconds.

Don't look into the mirrors, another thing metabolized and complacently accepted with a singular, simple: )

Ok.

( He should feel guilty about the close call - and he does - just not guilty as he would have six months ago. Ricardo (he has indeed named his bat Ricardo, and it's kind of a Tom Cruise in Castaway with the volleyball situation) has saved his life at least a dozen times under surprisingly similar circumstances.

But. You know. Still. He's not an asshole, so he gives Stephen's shoulder a nod. )

Sorry about your...

( Impending bruise and fun oncoming days of soreness thanks to his increasingly poor ability to differentiate reality from hallucination. )

[sorser]

[Ok, he says, and accepts it as simple truth. And you know what? Stephen is fine with that — best that someone is quick to take his advice to heart, than someone who is quicker to question and doubt his intentions.

Stephen doesn’t answer at first, which might as well be a dismissal of that apology, instead stooping down to pick up the large pieces of cloth he’d dropped during the bat-to-shoulder incident.]

It’s fine. Not the worst I’ve felt.

[He stands, this time with said folds of cloth gripped in one hand, and offers back the bat—]

I’m going to assume whoever—or whatever—you saw deserved it. Just… try not to do it again.

arrival - omg, I love Jack

[retisense]

[The men's room isn't exactly where she'd hoped she'd end up when she got out of the air duct, and she's about to get the hell out of dodge when she hears the slight noise indicating that someone else is here. Making a loud, put-upon sigh, she heads over to the direction of the noise, praying to whatever's out there that it's someone arriving and disoriented and not some dude trying to take a crap without closing the bathroom stall.

It's an incredible relief when it turns out that it's the former.

The guy is standing there clutching a baseball bat and looking like he's about to pass out, so she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, just in case. She'd rather be holding him up than have him land on top of her if he falls over.]

Hey, nice-ish to meet you.

omg you know the thing??

[stations]

( God, if only he could pass out. At this point, he'd pay actual money - that he... doesn't have anymore, because he is not good at small business management as it turns out - to just fade to black for a day or two. Spacing out is the closest he's going to get in more ways than he even knows yet, and the shift is so quiet, so subtle, it doesn't break him from his trance.

A hand on his shoulder does, though. He doesn't startle or jolt, just blinks his eyes up at her in slowly forming surprise and comprehension. ​)

Hey.

( Wait, no, he already said that didn't he? He's pretty sure. He clears his throat to shake the rasp from his voice and follows up with a slightly uncertain: )

We're, um. Actually closed?

( Sry friendo he's still a little disoriented. )

It's only one of the best creepypasta ever.

[retisense]

[This guy is really, really, super out of it. She can't really blame him, this whole thing is a big hot mess, but it doesn't mean she isn't still stuck in the men's room (which manages to somehow be way more stinky than the women's room even if it's a bit cleaner - how?) which is still one of the last places on the planet she wants to be.]

We? Oh, uh, you're not wherever you think you are, hun.

[A shrug, but she keeps her hand on his shoulder just in case, and takes a careful step toward him, offering what smile she can muster up.]

You want to get out of the bathroom?

BRUH HAVE U LISTENED TO THE AUDIOBOOKS? dude turned them into official novels, they're on audible

[stations]

( For just, like, a second it feels a little bit like it's Amy standing over him. A couple blinks later and that clears up, but definitely un-clears up a lot of other stuff in the process.

For the first time he seems to take stock of his surroundings, brow furrowing, perplexed but otherwise compliant. )

...Yeah, sure, I guess.

( He's very conscientious about grabbing his ice box as they peel away from the wall. )