Quoted By:
“... Stan?” Asks Ly as you silently linger in the back alley, “We uh… what are we doin’, kid?”
Just gimme a sec, you mutter as you retrieve <span class="mu-g">CLIFF’S NOTE</span> from your pocket. Giving the tobacco-scented paper one last stare, you wordlessly toss it into the air and vaporize it with a blast from your <span class="mu-g">LASER EYE!</span>
“We uh… we probably coulda’ eaten it or somethin’.” Observes your skeleton’s disembodied voice in a cautious tone. Yea, you shrug, watching the paper’s few remaining ashes scatter in the cold evening breeze. Your business complete, you find yourself moving on autopilot around the building towards the crowded shitshow that is the <span class="mu-g">CONCESSION STAND.</span> What was once a small counter inside the main building has now been extended outside and around like one of those poolside bars you see in all the vacation commercials.
Everything… everything’s gonna be fine tomorrow, right Ly?
“Well uh,” he stammers, taken off-guard by the sudden question, “I’m no fortune teller, kid, but…” He goes silent for a moment as you quietly await an answer. “... we’ve done okay so far, yea? Just gotta’ keep doin’ what we’re doin’.”
“<span class="mu-r">Yea!</span>” Adds Nats in a supportive tone, “<span class="mu-r">Just need to stay the course!</span>”
Right, you nod in an almost automatic voice, they’re right…
Pushing past line after line of thirsty skeletons, you overhear a familiar voice amidst the chaos around you:
“-ver HERE!”
Turning in the voice’s vague direction, you spot a familiar striped shirt and a smiling greaser attached to it waving you over to an empty seat next to him at the bar!
“You lost or somethin’, kid?” He laughs as you take a seat next to Stripes. “Don’t tell me yer’ sloshed already!”
No, you mutter, still collecting yourself as you scan the countless bottles behind the makeshift counter, you’re uh… you’re good.
“Atta’ girl!” Laughs the skeleton as he waves his hand in the air for service! “I tell ya, nowadays I need a stiff drink too after talkin’ to Cliff… management, sis–that stuff’ll kill ya.”
You respond with a noncommittal ‘<span class="mu-i">mhm</span>’. Seems like it…
>CONTD.
