rule #1

[scaler]

[Molly has found the journal.

'Calm' is not a good word for it. Neither is 'relaxed,' or 'adjusted,' or 'accepting,' but she is very good at putting on all four. Keeping her head is what keeps her alive.

She's gotten acquainted with the important bits: the magic, the wishes, the losses, the indefinite stay, the familiar faces. Also the really important bit: walkers. That is, lack thereof. Allegedly.

None of it seems real -- but then, options are limited.

She presses a crease into the corner of the journal's page with her thumbnail. The first thing it picks up is a mutter half to herself.]

Feet first, I guess.

[Then, louder:]

So, hey. Ain't I supposed to get a gift basket? That's what luxury places like this do, right? What kind of welcome wagon is this?

Comments

[lucre]

It would be had I posed the danger. It is a warning.

[scaler]

Well, then I've heard it already. This place ain't "paradise" no matter how much it pretends to be, is that what you're warning me about?

[lucre]

Yes. It is closer to the opposite in fact, but you may yet enjoy your first months.

[scaler]

It's got food. That's good enough for me at this point.

[lucre]

And alcohol.

[scaler]

And alcohol. Apparently.

But I told you, I'm passing.

[For now.]

[lucre]

You must inform me when you decide these motor skills are no longer so necessary.

[scaler]

You bring the wine, and you've got yourself a deal.

[lucre]

Spanish wine. Spiced to suit the season?

[scaler]

[That gets an amused noise.]

Sounds a couple steps above the swill I usually drink. But sure, why not.

[lucre]

I will call on you.

[scaler]

And I'll tell you when.