Wilbur always said that a real man would never keep a woman waiting too long. I don’t know if it was too long this time, but I definitely didn’t appreciate how long it took to be rescued. Being carried like a princess, I look at the sky. Unlike our world, this world’s sky is blue and the star is a dusty yellow. Glancing at my rescuer, I loosen my hold on his neck to give him some breathing room. Abruptly stopping, he glares at me. Not understanding, I glare back.
I refuse to lose twice in a staring contest! Sighing, the man says, “Hold tighter, I can’t run if you keep bouncing around!” Widening my eyes, I hold his neck tighter. I really don’t know why he’s still carrying me, but if he wants to, I see no problem. I promised not to hug others, but that doesn’t mean they can’t hug me and that I can’t hold onto them. It’s purely his fault he wasn’t there on time! Ruminating on whether I was hugging or holding my rescuer, we arrive at another abandoned building.
Dropping me on a ratty sofa, he disappears into another room. He definitely looks like Regius. He may not have any of Regius’s defining traits, but he does have eight eyes! Waiting patiently for the target to come back, Several minutes pass before his head pokes out from around the wall. Looking at me questioningly, he asks, “What are you waiting for? An invitation? Come on!” Frowning, I get up and turn the corner. Regius would never talk to me so rudely! He’s definitely a criminal. He might have saved me, but I’ll give him a 4 out of 10 for that behavior.
Stepping through a broken doorway, I find myself in a kitchen. Motioning me to sit in front of him, he asks, “Now, you want to tell me why someone like you is roaming around outside?” Thinking even worse of him, I ask, “What do you mean someone like me?” Does he think dungeons can’t make it in this world? Dungeons are the best! There isn’t any world where we can’t dominate! Seeing my aggressive attitude, he raises his hands while saying, “I’m talking about you being unarmed.”
Fumbling around in his pant pockets, he says, “I want to know who let you outside without a gun. Everyone in the area knows that the old school is a hot zone, so you’re obviously not from around here.” Pulling out a finger length stick, he lights one end on fire and sticks the other end on fire. I guess even I would feel tired of living if all I could see were nasty monsters. Feeling bad for the guy, I answer him, “I and my group came to look for some things, but we got separated. I was told not to make a sound no matter what I encountered and my partner would come to save me.”
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Curious, I ask, “Why are you trying to kill yourself?” Raising an eyebrow, he looks at me strangely. Gesturing to the flaming stick in his mouth, I say “You’re inhaling smoke, It’s been known to degrade your lung tissue and cause several issues. Why do you do that?” Looking at me in disbelief, he swipes his forehead for some reason and chuckles while looking everywhere but at me. Finally looking at me, he asks, “Are you serious?” Seeing me still staring at him, he shakes his head, “It may be self-degradation or whatever, but it helps calm my nerves. Nowadays, the only people who can get a peace rest are those who have yet to leave their bunkers. Sometimes, being closer to death one way, get you farther from death another.”
Tilting my head, I swing my legs back and forth under the table. This grandpa doesn’t make any sense. Getting closer to death means getting closer to death. Unless he can split his body in two, it shouldn’t be possible, right? Seeing my confusion, he chuckles, “I mean, I would rather die rocking on my chair, than in the gut of some monster. I’d rather die in peace than in defeat. Get it?” Nodding my head, I add to his score. I’d give him a 6 out of 10 now.
Gesturing to the empty cup in front of me, he asks, “Would you like some coffee young lady? It’s been a while since I’ve laughed this good.” Beaming, I offer to make it for him. I definitely know how to make coffee, it’s the thing where you put those fragrant leaves in the boiling water and add sugar right? Wilbur always drank coffee, but when I asked to taste it, he would always make me another separate cup. Pointing to a large barrel, he says, “I like my coffee strong, if you could be a dear, use a half cup of the stuff in the barrel for mine. Also, just use some of the sugar in the cabinet.”
Going over to the barrel, I open the top and find it full of brown powder. Taking a bit more than a cup in the provided scoop, I move over to the electric stove where water was already boiling. “Oh yeah, the water is ready. I was making some before I heard the tangle vine. Should save some time.” he adds while maintaining parts of his gun. Adding most of the brown powder into the boiling water, I look for the sugar. Not finding it in the surrounding cupboards, I ask, “Which drawer is the sugar in mister?”
Not looking up, he motions in the right direction near the ceiling. Following his finger, I open a smaller and harder to reach cupboard. Inside is a tiny bottle with a worn label. Looking at the label, all I can make out is the picture of a dead mouse. Shaking the contents, I shrug my shoulders. Maybe the brand he uses is so sweet, it could kill a mouse. Sounds just like him! Strong coffee should go with strong sugar right?