Do y’know how disappointing it is to finally be done with a huge mess back home only to find out you’re not dead but you still hurt like hell and you’ve woken up on some rust bucket? Not that I was expecting big, pearly gates and clouds but… This looks a lot like the inside of a sand steamer. Guess Hell is less about the torture and suffering than
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[
Bob walks into the laundry room.] Hello?
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He joined the young man.] What's your name?
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[He eyes him, a little wary.]
You one of those warden guys?
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He looked around, considering the problem at hand.] Well, let's operate on the assumption that you've arrived at the right floor and work from there.
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He gives him a careful look to judge how tired the man is. If it's too much, he'll offer his own quarters until he finds the other man's.]Are you up to it, Mr Wolfwood?
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[There isn't much for him to consider; he'd choose the bed over staying in here and watching people wash their stuff any time. It doesn't occur to him for a moment that he could ask for a place to crash until this bone tired feeling washes off. He just isn't that kind of guy, so he forces a grin.]
Me? Yeah, I'll be fine.
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He went to the nearest room, room 1, it opened but was bare.]
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[He keeps his expression carefully neutral; most of his personal belongings were destroyed or given away out of necessity when he died so he's not really sure what to expect. He peers into Room 1 but when he sees that its empty, he can't help but be a little bit relieved.]
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