[PUNCH CLOCK ANIMAL] ASHTRAY

[skinstealer]

The room is crowded, not so much that Chelsea can't take a look around, but enough to make her anxiety spike. She has no idea how she got here, or why her old theater troupe is here, or why she’s dressed up, or-
  

CHELSEA: We're dreaming. 

   

 
The pockitt next to her shoots her a glare, his arms folded. 
 

????: No shit. 
????: What tipped you off, the fact that you have ears and two arms?
CHELSEA: No, just that you're here...and I remember being next to Bucket before this…

   

 
She reaches up and feels her ears, frowning. 
  

CHELSEA: It doesn't feel right, though. 
CHELSEA: Something's off.

   

  
Everyone else in the crowd is talking amongst themselves, a drone that cannot be heard in clarity or detail but one making it very obvious everyone else in the room is having a better time. The pockitt starts walking away from the obscured yet familiar faces, leaving Chelsea to scramble after him. 
   

CHELSEA: Bazil! 
CHELSEA: Where are you going?!  
BAZIL: Looking for a way out. 
CHELSEA: Don't leave me behind!

  

 
A taller than average karacel bumps him back toward the little corner they’re all scrambled into. Chelsea could have sworn they were over behind them before this...
  

????: Careful where you're going there, yeah? 
????: You can't be free floating all over the place right now, we gotta keep our spot here. 
BAZIL: Our? 

  

 
Bazil scowls, backing up. 
  

BAZIL: You're with her. 
BAZIL: Not me. 

 

   
Chelsea shoots them an apologetic look, putting a hand on Bazil's shoulder to try and steady him, only to get shrugged off immediately.
  

???? (1): Why'd you bring this kid along? 

 
Another member of the troupe steps in.
 

???? (2): Look keep him from starting stuff would you? 

???? (2): If we start letting folks lean in over here we're gonna see our group scrambled across the room. We gotta keep it close knit, right?
CHELSEA: Bazil's not-
BAZIL: I'm not a kid!
????(2): You know what I mean, keep him in check.
BAZIL: I don't need to be- 

   
Chelsea clamps her hands over Bazil's mouth, getting a muffled but indignant snarl in return. 
 

CHELSEA: Sorry, sorry...we'll take it easy.
???? (1): Good, y’all stick around for a bit and find your spot, we gotta claim what we can before the place fills with stuffy folks.