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The diner.

[ Lisey had found the diner in town, which was fully stocked somehow, and was currently inside fiddling around with the stock, wondering what to make. ]

Now she also wondered where everyone else was. Now that there was food she figured someone would be there besides her. Of course, did they know how to cook? Would she end up cooking for everyone? She was used to cooking for herself. Well, herself and Scott... when he was...

No. No, she didn't want to think about that.

"Oooooo, french fries."

A-Hungry

Mordred bes a-tired, sais, and Mordred bes a-bored.

But mostly, as ever, Mordred bes a-hungry. And I would be fed.

Ye get anywhere in searching for food yet, Eddie Dean?

Tags:

in shittown.

[ He was seated quietly on a curb outside, throwing rocks into the street. No bitching, no snarking, no storytelling. He was just sitting there, one hand tracing the scar on his face and the other searching out pebbles and tossing them. The street was empty, of course. The town was pretty much empty except for the random few people that kept showing up here and there, most of whom were milling around in the diner behind him like he usually was. That voice in his head was telling him they were all brought here for a reason, but he usually didn't listen to that voice. He usually told it to-- ]

Shut up. Just shut up already.

Wittles

OK, the once-and-future pere here wants a drink, and the creepy king of the spider things wants meat, preferably not from one of us. Some of you folks who've been here longer than we have, help me out here, I beg. What does one do for some munchies out here? Are we stuck with what provisions we've brought with us, like sai Allgood's jerky, because I hate to say it but my cupboard's freaking bare. Is there a secret compartment with all the hoagies and root beer you can stomach, or are we going to have to go hunting? And if we're going hunting, then who's with me?

Well, this is different.

[He looks thoroughly confused. It isn't the first time he's stepped from world to world, of course it isn't, but this time, he left from Washington, DC, and this is definitely not Washington, DC.]

Where is this?

Is anyone around?

And where can I get a drink?

Why now?

So I had a horribly shit dream last night. Anyone have any ideas or suggestions on how to get my mind off of it?

If we're all out here together...

and we are...
then there's a reason for it. I've lost my faith in coincidence.

You all know each other here? I'm trying to sort out the relationships. Young Pete, you the dinh of this ragtag group? The head nacho?
I may be naught but a callow youth, but if there's one thing I see, I see that this is not Jericho Hill. And I do not see Ro', nor Al', nor the army of gunslingers I'd set my watch and warrant were here not five minutes ago. So, then, it falls to me to ask; what in the name of damnation is going on? And where am I?

Meet Mordred

BEDAMNED TO YE, GUNSLINGER! THOU HAST KILLED THINE OWN SON!

Where am I? I'm scared.