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[yourpainismine]

You are dreaming, but it is not your dream. This place is foreign in many ways, but uncomfortably familiar in others. Houses, carts, fences...upturned and shattered across dusty, broken streets. It's a dream, but you can feel the harsh wind tug at your sleeves and disturb the ashes of what were once homes and the strange people therein. You can

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[riotnoise]

[ Looks around, very lost. ]

Dis fook'd up.

[yourpainismine]

I don't like any of it-!

[riotnoise]

[ Stares at him for a bit - he's a blue boy with a tail. He blinks, before poking his forehead, making sure he's real. ] Wot the. [ A pause. ] Bloody hell.

[yourpainismine]

[flinching, he scoots away from the hand and stares up at the funny-looking man. wiping his nose, he fidgets uncomfortably.]

A-Are you with the good one?

[riotnoise]

The wot?

[yourpainismine]

The good one. Who tells me how to fix this. D. Do you know him?

[riotnoise]

No idea what you talkin' 'bout, mate. [ He frowns ] I donno where we are, either.

[yourpainismine]

[dropping his head again.] It's my house.

[riotnoise]

Wot? [ He looks around. ] Wot is?

[yourpainismine]

This. [he reaches out and pats the broken wall he's sitting against.] I live here.

[riotnoise]

Shite. [ His Cockney accent brings a slight tone of compassion. ] Shite, mate. [ Leaning against the wall, he slides down and sits by him. ] Sorry to hear, yeah?

[yourpainismine]

[only the Good One tells him he's sorry, so he must be good. but he doesn't look like he understands, so...] It's not real yet. N'I don't think you'll see it when it is.

[riotnoise]

[ It's a fact that intelligence isn't Charlie's forte, but he's not so thick that he can't show some understanding to the weird looking kid. He frowns, not understanding his words, and bites his tongue to not to blurt out too rudely his confusion. ]

Wot ya' mean, ain't real?

[yourpainismine]

[he wipes his nose on his arm for all the good it does.] I have this dream a lot...But people like you don't show up much. Unless you're here to tell me what to do.

[riotnoise]

Shite, mate, I canna' tell ya' whatta do. [ He scratches the back of his neck. ] I wouldn't know whatta do meself.

[yourpainismine]

Then...how come you're here? Did the Bad One make you come?