methuselah (
singmod) wrote in
singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
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February 2024 Test Drive Meme
FEBRUARY 2024 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another new group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.
PROMPT TWO — OF FAIR FORTUNE: After spell of bad luck, finally, the Interlopers find A Very Good (albeit slightly spooky) Boy.
PROMPT THREE — BAD PICKINGS: An error is made when foraging for mushrooms that have been altered by the Aurora makes for some interesting situations for the Interlopers.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-month.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.
'You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.'
It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.
You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.
You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. Interlopers who arrive during the month of February will find themselves especially likely of falling foul to accidental injuries and the like. It's as if the bad luck of finding yourself in this place only gets much worse. Maybe you get yourself horrendously more lost than you mean to, maybe you end up with a sprained wrist or ankle after a fall, torn clothing from fighting through the thicker parts of the wilderness.
But soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.
Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire. Not just one, but several. Civilization...?
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People! In the town!
As you head into the outskirts and then further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people. Several dozen at most, but no more. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.
There is a sombre mood to the town. Although you can't quite place why, maybe you should ask?
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a community hall, by the looks of it. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.
The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“Another batch of poor souls from the wilds.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”
The room is dim, lit only by natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful... and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.
There are canisters with hot herbal teas and perhaps a rare canister of coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, his mood is... low, mournful. but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
This time, if he is approached, particularly by those who have been in Milton for some time, he will frown in thought. He is… considering something. Finally, he will speak:
“I had hoped that the secret cache I and your fellow Newcomers had found two months past would be enough until the spring comes.” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze moving to one of the many windows of the Community Hall. “If she ever arrives, that is.”
He doesn’t believe it will.
“More and more of you come. Life will continue to get harder with the numbers rising.” Methuselah explains. “Milton is but one town, and the way out to the south is blocked.”
He means the road out — the one that follows out of town, past the gas station and through the mountains. The tunneled road ends there, caved in with snow and stone. There is no way out that way. Methuselah is quiet for a few moments.
“... There must be another way out. For all of our sakes. It must be found."
OF FAIR FORTUNE
WHEN: The month of February.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts, Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: otherworldly animal;
The Interlopers have discovered that it is not best to trust the canines in this world. The wolves and volatile, aggressive — prone to attacking the town, people. There has even been an instance of a dog leading Interlopers off the beaten track some months ago, into trips and falls and all sorts of mischief. To come across any sort of dog these days would draw suspicion, perhaps even aggression from Interlopers.
And certainly, coming across this particular dog is enough to turn plenty around and start heading in the opposite direction.
There is something…. Otherworldly about this dog. In terms of breed, one might recognise it to look a great deal like an Old English Sheepdog — but far bigger and hardier. It almost looks as if moss and vines are matted in its long fur, which seems ridiculous — but it’s true enough. The dog does not bark, but instead will stop and look at you silently when you come across one another. If approached, it will not run off, but it does not want to be petted and prefers to keep a respectable distance between you and it.
Then, it will turn to look in one direction and begin heading that way. It looks as if it wants to take you somewhere, but it won’t run off for you to catch up. It keeps to your side, silent and steady as you head through the snow, the woods. Wherever you’re going, there seems to be no rush in getting there.
It’s a little unnerving: where did this dog come from? Why does it look so… strange? Where is it going? Where is it taking you? But even with these questions, it doesn’t seem like you’ll find much in terms of answers, not at first.
Soon enough, you’ll find it. It’s different for everyone, but it seems like it all has some recurring theme. Perhaps out in the cold wilds of the Northern Territories, you’re in desperate need of shelter or warmth — you and the dog will find yourselves facing an abandoned cabin, a place of safety from the cold, perhaps with warmer clothing within. Or perhaps the dog may lead you to some secret stash: a metal cache half-hidden in the snow, a small stone cairn — with vital loot hidden within: matches, flares, maybe even food. It may even lead you to foragable foods: mushrooms, berries or of the like — all safe to consume.
Whatever the strange dog leads you to, it is a fortune. A small one, but a fortune nonetheless. It seems as if it wanted to bring you to something to aid you in your time here. Upon finding whatever it is the dog leads you to, the dog disappears — never to be seen again.
BAD PICKINGS
WHEN: Mid-month onwards for a few weeks.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: altered food/foraged foods; drugs/hallucinogens / negative hallucinogenic trips; severely altered/warped moods; temporary amnesia; personality switches; loss of senses
The Northern Territories may be harsh, difficult conditions to survive in, but certainly not impossible. There is an abundance of wildlife, hardy enough to withstand the weather — even in the extreme, unpredictable times such as these. Foraging will soon come to be a staple for those stuck here in this world, and is just as important as hunting down any deer or rabbit. Flora is not only useful in terms of sustenance, but in its use in medicines and tinctures.
Mushrooms can be found here and there in particular areas: taking advantage of the wet, rotten wood of downed trees, or nestled in the sheltered undergrowth of the more densely wooded areas where it’s a little more suitable for fungi to grow. But not even the flora of this world is safe following the recent Auroras. The world is changing, and for the next few weeks — foraged mushrooms will have some… interesting effects, when consumed.
Interlopers that come across these mushrooms in the wilds will find themselves compelled to pick and eat these mushrooms right away. They're perfectly fine to eat raw, just more enjoyable to eat once cooked.
The effects of the mushrooms will last between eight hours to a full day, depending on how much was consumed. Nothing can be done to alleviate symptoms. You will feel incredibly hungover the day after the effects have subsided, and feel completely fine after that. The Aurora’s influence on mushrooms is only temporary, and the mushrooms will cease their effects after a few weeks.
Reishi mushrooms This mushroom will temporarily take away one of your five senses: sight, touch, smell, taste or hearing. You may find yourself feeling completely numb to touch; or unable to hear or see anything.
Oyster mushrooms Eating one of these mushrooms will give you temporary amnesia. You may forget yourself, things about your life, even your own name. Or maybe you will forget those around you. Or perhaps both.
Black Morel Eating this mushroom will seem to switch your personality to its complete opposite. Introverted sorts will become extroverted, those prone to anger will become more calm and chilled out, cheerful sorts will become more morose — and vice-versa.
Chanterelles Your mood is lifted and you become more cheerful and affectionate with those around you. You may even become more enamoured with the next person you happen to meet, regardless of your feelings towards them previously or your own orientation/attractions.
Amethyst Laccaria There is nothing supernatural or strange that happens when this mushroom is consumed. You just have a super bad hallucinogenic trip of your own horrible making. This mushroom is literally a nightmare. Sorry about that.
FAQs
1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.
2. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.
3. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.
4. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.
5. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. Please Do Not Pet That Dog.
1. Interlopers that pick a variety of the mushrooms and cook them together to eat will suffer the effects of whichever mushroom was in the largest quantity.
2. The mushrooms are fine to eat raw, and characters will feel compelled to eat them raw.

james t. kirk (au) — st:snw
BAD PICKINGS
Arrival: Path
This is Milton. In, um, Canada. That's not very helpful, though, sorry. But I can show you into town.
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That is helpful, actually. [ It's some kind of reference. He has to think for a few good seconds to remember where Milton is, and his eyebrows are knit together when he asks. ] We're close to Toronto, then. Right?
[ Still on Earth, if nothing else. And still alive, somehow. Still begs the question of how he ended up here, but for now he accepts the offer with a nod, gesturing for the younger man to lead the way. ]
I'm Jim, by the way.
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I don't know, I've never heard of this place before I showed up here.
[Levi starts back towards the town.]
I'm Levi. There's food and warmth in town. We're not the only ones here.
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How many people are there?
[ He can gauge by the answer whether this Earth is heavily populated or not, he hopes. ]
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— the path
She's so focused on the simple act of survival that it takes her a moment to realize someone is coming toward her. Turning, she stares at the man like he's a ghost — she can't feel him, so he might as well be. With that haunted look in her eyes, she studies him, taking in the torn and dirty clothes and the cut on his forehead. Nevermind that she has her collection of cuts and scrapes, not to mention the way she's struggling to stay on her feet — other people come first, always. The combination of shock, cold, and exhaustion keeps her from saying anything just yet, the words stuck in her throat as she wonders distantly if, instead of some messed up afterlife, this might be the Framework. It would be her luck to end up trapped in an artificial reality as a reward for sacrificing herself to save the world. ]
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Hey. [ He lands a hand on her arm, not a firm hold but rather a steadying touch. ] You're not looking so good. Let's find you somewhere to sit for a little while, how does that sound?
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Her jaw shakes slightly with the shiver that runs through her, which really should be much worse than it is. Is her suit absorbing her shaking without her realizing, or is she just getting too cold? The latter is definitely the more concerning possibility. ]
I'm okay. [ She's obviously not, but her voice somehow comes out strong enough to give a good shot at faking it.] Are you? You're bleeding. [ He's still upright though, so: ] We need to get somewhere warm and make sure it's not worse than it seems.
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[ He means it, too. Granted, the injuries don't exactly make it easier for him to walk, but it's nothing so debilitating that even slows him down. At least, not for the time being. ]
I agree, we do need to get somewhere warm. But there's a good chance that you're gonna pass out on me if you don't sit down and take a break for a little while. And I'm not as strong as I look, [ He offers with a disarming smile. ] Not sure I could just carry you the rest of the way.
[ He could and would find a way, to be fair. Or just find shelter until she could walk again. But the whole point here is trying to convince her to stop for a bit, so. ]
Just five minutes, alright? Then we keep going, together.
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Why can't she, though? Why can't she use her powers? How are they just gone? The last time this happened, she'd been drugged and able to very clearly feel those effects, but there's nothing like that now. ]
Okay. Five minutes. [ She's going to blame her relatively easy acquiescence on that smile. Stubbornness runs deep with her, but she also doesn't want to keel over in the snow, and he might actually be right about that possibility. ]
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bad pickings
And keeping an eye out for trouble. This isn’t her first time around the multiverse, she knows that just because everything SEEMS to be fine doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way for long.
It’s hard to miss the unfamiliar face, though. He must be a new arrival, she’s pretty sure, although she might have just missed him. She tries to keep an eye out, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t missed someone. But he’s acting… strange. Blind. It looks like he can’t see, and that’s dangerous, here, as much as it is anywhere, and she’s already on the move when he’s running… and then tripping and hitting the ground hard. And in a mud puddle.
She makes a point to make noise as she approaches.] Hey, easy. It’s all right. [Her voice is laced with what sounds like a rather proper English accent. England, by way of a few other places. (Greece, and Australia, to name a couple.) She drops down to her knee beside him, ignoring the way it hurts.] I’ve got you. You all right?
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He came out here because he wanted to make himself useful in some way. He may have little idea how he landed here, or why, but he's not just going to sit in safety when people need help, and if nothing else, he can gather a few things that may prove useful.
So he feels especially useless right now, flat on his stomach and unable to even see the person who approaches him. There's a slight startle, but she's cautious enough that she doesn't actually scare him. He pushes himself to a sitting position, which ends up with his pants now dirty too. ]
Well, aside from being blind and covered in mud, I'm doing great.
[ God, he hopes it's mud. ]
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Let’s get you on your feet. [And then, because she knows that this has to be disconcerting as fuck and she’s not going to startle the poor bastard, she announces her intentions.] I’m going to grab your arm, if that’s all right.
[And then, if he lets her, she’s going to do exactly that, so she can help him up. Using her good arm, and instinctively trying to hide the wince from her ribs protesting... any movement she makes.]
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So you mean there's more stuff like this to look forward to?
[ Rather than say anything to her warning, he just reaches an arm out, hand open wide to accept the help. He's not injured this time at least, so he can get to his feet with relative ease, though he does sense a brief moment when her strength falters, about halfway through to helping him up. ]
Are you alright?
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A probably never-ending cornucopia of this sort of shit. The loss of senses is… a new one, though. You’ve missed hauntings, supernatural wolves, and creepy whispers trying to convince you to go wandering off into the dark and the cold. So far.
[There are other things, but she's easing him into this place. She’s going to make sure he’s steady on his feet before she lets go of his arm, ready to grab onto him again if he looks like he needs it.
She’s more than a little irritated by her inability to swallow a damn wince. She’s never liked broken ribs. They’re so fucking annoying. Time for a little deflection.]
I’ve been better. Been worse, too, so I’m not sure I can complain.
[To continue to try and distract from the subject of her injuries, she rummages through her satchel until she finds a large bundle of cloth; she’s taken to keeping plenty of medical/medical adjacent supplies on hand just in case. And clean cloth will work just as well to clean mud off a face as it will for bandages and slings. Then she’s pressing it into his hand.]
Here. A faceful of mud is never pleasant. If you want some clean clothes I probably have some in one of the closets of the house I’ve called dibs on. Been trying to keep some on hand for new folks who aren’t dressed for the cold.
[And in case of accidental fires. Since that’s something she has to worry about now.]
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— arrival
Her first thought was that there might have been some issue with the transporter, depositing her elsewhere on Parnassus Beta, perhaps on a part of the planet experiencing winter. Except her communicator and tricorder are missing as well, which makes a simple transporter accident seem less likely. At least she can be certain this isn't some new trick by the Gorn — they despise the cold and would never abandon prey like this. But then what is going on, and where are the crew and civilians she'd been protecting?
The sound of someone (or something) approaching reaches her and she turns toward the sound, ready to react the second she knows what's coming. Of course, it's the very last thing she expects. ]
Jim? What are you doing here? [ Not that she isn't happy to see him, even with their awkward last conversation. ]
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That's another option, definitely. That he's currently bleeding to death and this is some wild, elaborate dream he's having in his last moments of life; or that he is actually dead, and there really is an afterlife of some kind.
(If that's the case, he's got to admit, he's seriously disappointed.)
Any potential theory related to his death kinda falls flat when he finally finds someone else, and that someone else is La'an. It narrows down options to another alternate reality, or them still being stuck on the same year, and same Earth, and just having been moved elsewhere in some strange, unforeseen phenomenon. Maybe the watch malfunctioned. Either way, Jim's not thinking about any of that at the moment. His relief is so immense when he sees her, that he just breathes out a sigh and rushes to her, arms wrapping around her. ]
You're here. [ He breathes out a nervous laugh, pulling away so he can look at her, hands on her arms. ] Thank God, I thought— [ He shakes his head. ] Never mind. Do you know how we got here? My mind's kinda drawing a blank.
[ If she looks at him properly, it won't take much to realize he's not the Jim she thinks he is. He's still wearing the clothes he had on when he was shot, after all. ]
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Warring horror and hope tangle within her, the emotions dancing across the lines of her face as she studies him. Her gloved hands move to grip his arms in return, as if he's the only tether she has to the surface of the planet. If she lets go of him this time, the universe will pull them apart again. ]
James. [ His name is like a prayer on her lips, breathed into life seconds before she flings herself back into those arms she never thought she'd get to feel around her, the strength of her embrace betraying the feelings she's kept deeply buried all this time. ] Oh my god, James. How are you—
[ She's dangerously close to tears and she doesn't even care. He might not be real, this might all be some beautiful dream or a twisted trick, but she doesn't care. He's here. ]
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For a moment, it doesn't matter. Jim wills it to not matter, only holding her tightly again, drawing as much joy and relief from seeing her again. He probably shouldn't, because if she's here, it probably means the mission's not over, or they're stuck in some kind of limbo somewhere.
But people are a little selfish, sometimes. And he selfishly just wants to have a little more time. What's so wrong with that? ]
I don't know. [ He shakes his head, not pulling away himself this time, letting her be the one to decide when she's done. ] I don't know, we were on the institute, and then I— I woke up here.
[ After I was shot; that's the part he doesn't say. He figures she'll know. ]
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She pulls back suddenly, one of her hands going to that spot on his chest where the bullet had pierced his body and torn him away from her. Her fingers shake and her usually stoic expression crumbles as she imagines blood covering her hands, but there's none of it now. Somehow, he's standing in front of her in one solid piece. ]
That was months ago. You— [ Her voice breaks but she tries again, pulling on the same strength that's seen her through every other tragedy in her life. ] I watched you die.
[ I mourned you. ]
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Arrival - The Path
As for the vigilante himself, at first glance he looked like some silent ghost or monster, no face to be seen. Soon enough it would become apparent he was simply wearing a mask, albeit one with the most unusual characteristic of having black splotches that constantly moved around on. When he spoke, it was in a deep, gravelly voice. He said only a single word.]
Hell.
[Was this guy serious? Oh entirely. Rorschach's main theory is that they were in ninth circle, freezing cold and awful as this snowy landscape was.]
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He stands there for a few seconds, just staring, mouth open like he's not entirely sure what to even say to something like that. ]
And... any alternate names for those of us who don't believe in that kind of thing?
[ He will take literally anything else, but don't tell a guy who's just died that he's in Hell. ]
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Milton. In Canada. Supposedly.
[You'd think he was being charged $100 for every word he spoke by how begrudgingly Rorschach talked.]
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So, okay. Milton, Canada sounds much better. Well, more believable, at the very least. ]
You have any idea if we're close to Toronto? I was there, uh... just before I woke up here.
[ He presses his fingers lightly to the center of his chest, rubbing. Then, he looks around. ]
Has anyone else showed up with me?
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