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Would You Like a Rust Sandwich?

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May 24th, 2006

Housewarming [May. 24th, 2006|12:22 am]
Would You Like a Rust Sandwich?


[Current Location |South Ashfield, sort of]
[mood |boredbored]

He'd been wandering around the block for quite awhile, but always avoided that room. As much as he could, anyway- Walter seemed quite fixated on it. But he figures he should go say hi to the new neighbor, so off he goes. It's just one door down, after all.

He knocks on the door to Room 302, hoping to god that the Eileen woman doesn't answer.
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A casual meeting *Open to Doctor Troy* [May. 24th, 2006|10:03 am]
Would You Like a Rust Sandwich?
[Current Location |Rooftop]
[mood |contemplativecontemplative]

Walter sat on the edge of the roof of the apartment building, just watching the blackened sky.

"Mr. Doctor," he said, "Come here."

He waited patiently while his mental summons went out.
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(no subject) [May. 24th, 2006|09:42 pm]
Would You Like a Rust Sandwich?


Pixy Misa found herself in a very crummy apartment. This isn't at all what she had in mind when she agreed to merge with Walter. She had thought surely she would get a boost to her magical powers. Where was her magical boost! For that matter where was she!

"Eh!? What is this place?" She looks around, "What happened to that creepy man... Oh well."

She concentrates on home, so that maybe she can take a nap or something. This place was boring anyway.

"PIXY TELEPORTATION!" She hoped her spell would at least get her out of here.
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(no subject) [May. 24th, 2006|10:33 pm]
Would You Like a Rust Sandwich?


[Current Location |room 302]
[mood |lethargiclethargic]

Liz is running out of cigarettes. It's far from her biggest problem at the moment, but it's the only one she's focusing on. The human mind is not flexible enough to take in endless amounts of trauma without exploding into shiny bits of grey matter confetti.

She spends a lot of time stretched out in the little bedroom, imagining that in some other time and place, Henry slept there once. It's possible she's slept. She isn't sure. There might have been dreams, but she's trying not to think about that.

There's no way to tell how long she's been here; the light never changes.

At the moment she's trying to decide if she wants to try breaking a window again or read the car magazine.

...why the hell is there a car magazine?
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