[discplot] diners, dashing, and falling anvils

[picksthelosers]

Existence is a vast and complicated place. No honestly, it is. Things get lost, misplaced, often dropped, shoved into pockets and never seen again. Whole universes go missing, and when they reappear, they’re covered in lint. This place is no exception1On first inspection, it is a diner. All vinyl covered booths that are shades like teal and maroon

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[forged_hero]

There had, Moist decided later, been worse places he had woken up.

The underside of a bright pink plastic pony with a trap door in, however, did place first in the Creativity Category.

Since he'd woken, poked around, and made the mistake of opening the front door*, it gradually dawned upon Moist that this was a very Disc-esq bit of madness. And then the Lady had made her entrance.

And then Moist had taken up residence under the table he now called home. A pair of legs joined him eventually, but they did not seem inclined to conversation, so he had let it be. Besides, he was busy listening for sounds that may indicate a piano getting ready to be dropped.

Because she has that sort of sense of humor, see. Oh, I'm sorry - She.

"Gods be damned," he muttered, knees tucked up beneath his chin.

*In space, no one can hear you scream. Or, as it happens, squeal like a little girl.

[feel free to own the pair of legs]

[picksthelosers]

"Do you know how expensive1 damning is these days?" says voice that belongs to the pair of legs.

A face joins them (them being the legs and the voice) and it's smiling and nodding.

"Eggy toast?" She offers, holding out a plate, and pulling off the bacon from the plate, eating it in layers. "Franneddy makes the best eggy toast in six corners2."

1: Approx. $297694.78 before taxes and accounting for inflation, 45 years ago.
2: 9 corners, if you cut them.

[forged_hero]

"What is it?" Moist said warily, barely controlling the flinch back.

"Ostrich? Vulture?" He took the plate, inching until he back was against the opposite booth, neck hunched under the table. He eyed the legs for kicking.

"...phoenix?"

[picksthelosers]

"Sam."

The plate is pulled closer and she sniffs it, before holding it out again, like offering food to an abused dog.

"The bald eagle."

She pulls the garnish off and starts to eat that as well. "It's not going to get cold, promise."

[forged_hero]

"Anything that doesn't get cold," Moist pointed out, very slowly pulling himself onto the opposite bench, blinking like he'd been there for years, "Is not worth eating. It means its generating its own heat source."

He pulled the plate closer anyway, looking at it. He looked up at her. He looked back at the eggs.

"...you disowned me," he said reasonably. "Why are you giving me eggs?"

[picksthelosers]

It's onto the opposite bench that She reappears, and She's tapping Her shoes, clicking them really, and then She holds out a hand.

An apple appears, half green, half red.

"Because everyone needs eggs, and it's not your bottom stride." She laughs and takes a bite.

[forged_hero]

Figuring that poison just wouldn't be her style, Moist took a small, tentative bite.

It tasted mostly like eggs. And bacon. And burnt crispy bits.

"What is this place?" he asked, going back for more.

[picksthelosers]

"A diner." She crunches, but never spatters.

It's...fortunate. Really. She twirls her ankle.

"My diner. The hallway is really fantastic." A hand is pointed towards the doubledoors she flounced through. "It's..not a home, but it could be."

[forged_hero]

"Everything tastes like bacon," Moist pointed out, "Even the coffee."

"I've seen the hallway. Actually, I've seen people go down it without coming back. I'm a little suspicious."

[picksthelosers]

"Well, that's just your luck."

This just happens to be the honest truth. Which is of course, a lie.

She smiles.

"You want to take a looksie? A nice little peak?" The next moment she's beside him, holding a rather terrifying looking goblet. "It's not nearly as scary as other things. Like Romans. Or Stephen Colbert. Pie on other hand."

[forged_hero]

"...your omnipotent again," he said carefully, eying the goblet, expecting at any moment for something green and sulfurous to spit at him from hidden depths.

"I'm not sure it's in my best interest. I'm happy here under the table, thanks."

[picksthelosers]

She nods, sipping from the goblet. "Like a very good case of VD."

Just as she sets the goblet down again it disappears, but still she clasps her hands together, and the table disappears with it1.

"Don't make me make you."
1. Didn't need it anyways. That sort of dancing will commence later.

[forged_hero]

"-ing hell," Moist muttered, wincing. "Isn't that all a bit much?" he asked, mimicking the clap as he stood. "Bit theatrical, isn't is, Lady?"

[picksthelosers]

A pout.

"Only just a bit. I'm a bit out of sorts, but it's not always like this. I like subtle. I'm just trying to do a bit of convince."

She stamps her foot. "Now. Come."

[forged_hero]

"Woof woof," Moist muttered, following her. He didn't trust the room not to cave in at her slightest whim.

"So which of these special little doors is mine?"

[picksthelosers]

She pushes the doors open with a burst of effort, revealling more doors than eyes care to show.

It could be impressive. "The lucky one. The one that knows what you want."