[ audio] || a question

[fatespoken]

What determines when we're meant to leave? Would you call it something as fanciful as destiny? Logically speaking, it's apparently arbitrary. I've asked myself this question time and time again: why does someone enter the city, stay a month, and then leave on their 32nd day? Why can someone stay for three years and never seem to leave?

Everyone is

Comments

[never_very_good]

Don't think anyone's figured that one out.

[fatespoken]

I doubt anyone will, but I guess that keeps the mystery going, huh?

[never_very_good]

Guess so.

Been quiet. [You, Amory, not the City. It's sort of a question, even if it doesn't sound like one.]

[fatespoken]

It's that time of year. Hibernation.

[never_very_good]

Been off in a cave?

[fatespoken]

I try to avoid caves.

Off in a cabin.

[never_very_good]

I was starting to wonder if you went home.

[fatespoken]

That's not surprising. Seems to be the popular thing to do around here, lately.

You manage to find a manager?

[never_very_good]

Haven't hired anyone yet. Why, looking for a job?

[That could be hilarious.]

[fatespoken]

Working in the dark wouldn't be too great for my complexion.

[never_very_good]

Indoors is indoors, just as dim in a bar upstairs.

[He's teasing, though. There are other problems with the idea.]

[fatespoken]

Not to mention, the company is kind of dead.

[ Of course, you know him too well, Frankie. ]

[never_very_good]

Ah, well.

[fatespoken]

Not even a chuckle? Damn.

[never_very_good]

I'm laughing inside. Promise.

[More, he's worrying about not having anyone to hire. Same difference.]

[fatespoken]

I'll throw out some advertisements at the Light. See if anyone's looking for a night job.