At first, you hear nothing.

You open your eyes slowly, met with only a slightly shimmering black wall.

You reach your hand out-

Only for a familiar paw to latch onto your wing-arm, desperately clutching on.

Tim shakes his head, his pupils pinpricks.

You realize you do hear something, now-

A whimsical hum, just slightly off key.

 There’s a laugh from the wall in front of you, and chills go down your back.

Tar splatters against Tim’s leg, and he reels back- but he’s not fast enough. Something swoops around him, further splattering him, causing a pool to form around his feet and whispering horrible, sweet nothings.

The monster’s whispers are too distorted to make out, but you can hear the raw, utter panic in Tim’s voice as he strains against the tar-

The tar swallows him up, and nothing you scream makes him resurface.

Devo’s on your other side, frozen in fear-

His hand soaked in tar, eyes wide as the voices swirl over to him now, speaking in a low, unintelligible hum.

You think you hear him crying before it takes him as well, dragging him into the unseen depths.

You take a step back, your legs shaking-

A scream nearly escapes you as you feel something at your back-

Only for it to be Cross, her arms wrapping you in a bear hug.

Drips of tar hit your head, and then Cross’.

Your eyes travel upward.

Your gaze meets the beast’s, looming over you as black sludge drips from an unseen mouth.

You hear the sound of a key being wound.

Cross hears a steady, beeping death knell.

It has you both now.

You wake up clenching the edge of your blanket, caught in a death grip.

Your phone says you’ve got a few hours before work.

Time to wake up and face the day.

You rub your face against your wing, the panic setting in-

You can’t do this. You just-

…

The dream’s over.

You still have some time before work.

You take a moment to breathe, getting out of bed slowly and heading for the shower.

The water’s just warm enough, not hot enough to burn- perfect for thinking this through. No panic.

The dream could have been prophetic. That monster could be real, but it also might not actually exist, and you’d be worrying for nothing. Still…planning ahead for it would probably be a good idea. Even if that thing isn’t real, there’s probably shit just as bad.

…tar’s flammable, you think. Could probably get a lighter or something, see what Wanderer thinks about it…and talking with the rest of the group could be good, as well.

You linger a little bit and let the water wash over you, mulling over how you could kill a weird goop beast. The more you do, the more mixed your emotions get- on the one hand, you don’t want to have to fight that thing at all, but on the other…

You’re pretty sure you could, if you were smart about it. You hate remembering anything about the Store, but you know you had a history there, and Cindi’s been saying you’ve improved a lot…

Combat practice would probably be a good idea. There’s gotta be a place where you can get some in…

You walk out to your phone buzzing- looks like you’ve got a text.

You can’t help but smile at that- Cross always knows how to cheer you up.[/font][/font]

You take a deep breath and rattle off yesterday’s adventures, everything from Wanderer’s advice and bargain to Tim and the party.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and you panic a little as you realize it’s your work alarm.

You speedrun getting your outfit on, looking yourself over in the bathroom mirror before heading out.

Work awaits.

Vine’s really got you busting your ass today, putting you on noodle duty for what feels like the millionth time this month.

She gestures to the familiar jars of slime, the pantry all for you.

You consider your options. None of the slime stands out to you at first, and Vine can clearly tell you’re zoning the fuck out.

Shit, all of your ideas are weird. This forest trip’s got your mind all scrambled.

You reach for some brown slime, one jar of dark, one of light.

Balancing the jars in one wing, you reach for a little container of green glitter.

Her voice has nothing but concern in it, and she slowly starts taking the jars away from you.

The dismayed look on your face makes her sigh, and she slowly starts placing the jars back in your arms.

You brighten back up immediately, a grin crossing your face.

Your first attempts at the dessert pasta come out…well….

Not great. Vine makes a bit of a face at you when she tries them, her muzzle scrunching up.

It takes some concentration to actually get the noodles tasting like soft, flaky pastry- but you somehow manage it after what feels like ages.

She smiles with her eyes, and you take that warm, proud feeling in.

Your shift passes without much fanfare, but getting into the rhythm of shaping dough into noodles and covering them with thin layers of slime helps you not think about what’s to come. You really have come into loving making food, and even with it being hard work, it’s something you look forward to every day.

When you tell Vine this on your break, she says a lot of toys in this city don’t have that kind of option, even if they should. That it’s one of the reasons why Laurie’s needs protecting, that this kind of space is a haven of sorts, at least for the people who need it.

The longer you stay here, the more you find yourself agreeing.

…you hope that this trip isn’t going to take too long.

---

You get off work at eight, right on time- but at this point, late for the party. Speeding back to your room, your nerves are starting to set in….you try to tell yourself you’ve got this, but god, it’s scary.

You whip open your slowly growing closet.

You don’t have a lot of options, here. You have:

-the casual outfit Laurie gave you, complete with skirt and lacy top- you’re wearing it now, actually, but it didn’t get dirty during your shift.
-your sleeping gown? It’s here, in any case.
-the sexy outfit you got for the party a month ago- too much, or just enough? Tim didn’t exactly specify a dress code.
-a simple dress Cross made for you- it’s black, has scalloped lace edges, and sports a little skull charm on the chest.

What do you wear?

It’s a no brainer….you grab the dress cross made you, stripping down and getting yourself all gayed up.

Tim’s sent you the address on your phone, and as you hit the cold night air, you can’t help but feel a bit on edge. You haven’t been out this late by yourself since the night you got here, and even then, it wasn’t this dark. The streets are lit with buzzing plastic lampposts, but it still feels…oppressive.

You really wish you could be walking with someone right now.

Every step feels more nerve wracking, but soon enough, you start seeing landmarks- each one easing the tension. You’re still getting used to how travel works even a month later…but you have the party’s location locked down in your head, your mind latching onto it with a death grip.

You stop walking once you arrive at a house matching Tim’s description- a compact, modern dollhouse with white trim. It’s a lot brighter than the surrounding square buildings, but you figure that’s a blessing in your case- easier to find.

As you approach the front steps, you can hear music inside…another good sign.

You ring the doorbell with just a bit of hesitance, standing there and feeling more than a little awkward.

The toy that answers the door is green and blue, made of a matte vinyl and sporting brushable hair. You can’t exactly parse what kind of animal they are, but they have a warm smile and fluttering, painted on lashes.

You quickly bring up your text messages, double checking the details Tim sent.

Miasma steps aside, their glittering outfit giving off all kinds of sparkles in the low, colored lighting. You cross the threshold and blink, taking it in- there are a lot of toys here, most of them dancing or talking.

You stumble around at first, getting your bearings… people bump into you easily, and you find yourself scooting off to the sidelines before too long.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a hand rests on your shoulder.

You whip around, relieved that it’s someone familiar. Tim’s in there in his casual outfit, just a shirt and shorts, while Devo’s sporting a pair of gym shorts and a low hanging sweater.

The bear looks a little awkward, clearly not used to talking to you at all.

Devo can’t help but snort at your little goof, but he doesn’t seem meanspirited about it, at least.

The bear smiles with his eyes at that, closing them and nodding.

Remembering you’re there, Devo startles out of his thoughts.

Tim starts walking, leading both you and Devo into a room to the side, gesturing to some floor pillows. Everybody flops down and gets comfy, and you’re surprised at how nice it feels from the get go.

There’s quiet as Tim trails off, awkwardness filling the air.

You can’t help but grin, giving Tim a nudge with your elbow.

Quiet seeps back in, and you think of something to say…

He raises a paw up to his shoulder, tapping a strap sticking out from under his sweater.

Devo gives you a warm look, his enthusiasm at getting to potentially have that cutting through his overall tired vibes.

Tim gives you an encouraging look, which somehow just makes this harder.

You go into the whole thing all over again, trying not to leave out any detail. The bean bear listens, not turning his gaze away from you for a second.

When you're done, Devo crosses his arms and closes his eyes, leaning against the wall.

The silence among your group just allows the rest of the party’s noise to edge in, somehow more ominous than comforting.

Both you and Devo turn to face Tim, whose brow is furrowed and scrunched.

He shakes his head and lets it hang, stopping himself from finishing that thought.

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, but…

Devo looks back up at you with newfound conviction, the intensity in his eyes scaring you a little.

He glances over to you.

Tim immediately shuts up.

Everything’s all awkward now, up until the point where Devo speaks again.

The bear sighs, his shoulders hanging.

Tim makes a throat clearing sound, looking more than a little nervous.

You get up slowly, stretching out.

Well, you’ve got a whole party to look around now. There’s people talking, people dancing, people watching some kind of sports on the TV, people gathering in the kitchen…

What do you do?

Well…if Roulette is as reclusive as Devo’s saying it is…

You should probably take a look around for some quiet places, little spots where there’s less action going on.

You start wandering around through the throngs of people, trying not to get your flippers stepped on as you do- there’s a lot going on.

The noise starts to pound in your head.

A back corner, behind the kitchen.
A...second living room. You think anyway. People are laughing and yelling.

You forget about Roulette.
You realize you’re looking forward to finding a quiet spot for your own sanity.

Outside in the backyard.
It's loud here, too; there's speakers here, synced up with the ones inside.
How is it so Loud out here, too?



There’s just…people.
Everywhere.
And the longer you’re aimlessly bumbling around, the less you believe that such a place could even exist.

You’re just about to give up hope until someone bumps into you, nudging you into something hard-

A banister, a staircase leading up to a second level.

...something’s…familiar.

You’ve been here before-
It feels like you must have, at least-

You take a step up, and then another.

As the music fades into a pulsing beat, it sinks in.

You remember the lights.
The noise.

You remember it was more bearable up above. ...You think.





There’s a door at the top of the stairs.

You raise your wing to turn the knob, but as you grip it between your pseudo-fingers, you hesitate.

Anything could be behind this door.

Playing into the hand you're dealt. Again.
What horror do you have to face now?
What's going to come crawling back into your head this time?
Was this all just a setup from the narrative to get you Here? Right Here?

And yet-

...You can't take the noise anymore.



You open it, slowly.

It's a bedroom.

A big bed.

There's something on the opposite side.
Junk, you think.
A heap of scraps someone had left-

It moves.



Barely.

The camera's aperture looks in your direction,
then resumes staring at the ceiling.
Its electronic voice rolls out; slower and quieter than usual.

A pause.

It doesn't move to get up, though.

You can faintly tell that Roulette looks in your direction, difficult to discern in the dark room.

It says nothing for the moment, though.




You hear a click from the corner.

A quiet whirring noise.
You'd mistaken it for Roulette's internal fans, but, it's-
a standing fan in the corner, clicking as it switches direction.

You can only see it in pieces,
cut apart by the faint orange-yellow sifting through the blinds at the window.

It finally responds.

It leans its head back a little more, its movements sluggish.

The robot glances over at you, the emotions of its expression impossible to discern.

...you have no idea if you should mention the dream.

Roulette puts one of its claws over its lens.

Its internal fans become audible, hardly, mixing with the white noise from the stand-up fan as it clicks again.

The robot goes dead silent.

Its cooling system whirrs louder.

You're quiet for a few moments, trying to think of what to say as you sit on the opposite edge of the bed.

A long pause.

It moves its claw, looking up at the ceiling.

Something about what Roulette says just…

Gets to you.

The robot's camera swings over in your direction.

Its fans whir up, faster and faster.

Roulette's motors go into overdrive, fans becoming louder than you've ever heard them.

It sits up perfectly straight, staring straight at you.

By this point, smoke is beginning to funnel from exhaust ports on the back of Roulette's head.

It shakes its head and lays back down on the bed, clutching its temple with a claw, resuming staring through the skylight.

You press your wing-hands together, trying to figure out the best way to put this.

Roulette is still rubbing its temple.

You hesitate, your voice going quiet.

There's a slight grinding noise coming from the robot's head,
internal fans chugging as smoke puffs out in small bursts.

Its fans spin up too hot again, that same grinding noise repeating.

You take a deep breath.

It takes some time to respond again at all,
the bot's head making all sorts of noises - at points looking like Roulette is entirely unresponsive.
You're not even particularly sure it heard what you said.

It comes to eventually, though, slowly but surely.

Its lens focuses over on you.
The aperture itself is lower than it usually tends to be, and somehow spread wider as well.
You pick up, for one of the first times, on the complex facial expression being conveyed:  Despondency, guilt, and a marked vulnerability.

Roulette's voice is faint,
and an unsteady wavering is only just noticeable, purely due to the stark contrast between its normal speech patterns.

Its eye clamps shut. Roulette gently grips the bed and hangs it head in front of you.

You take it all in.

Roulette's claw returns to its forehead,
the bot not raising its head back up.

You're not sure it heard you.
...Or if it did, you're not sure it took you seriously.

You think about the Toy Store.
You relate to what it's saying more than you've let on.



...You could talk about it.

But you aren't sure you Should.
Or what exactly you would share if you did, and what you Wouldn't.

You could also sugarcoat it.
Or make something fake up instead, not get into it at all.

You wish it was easier, to know what to say.