Private SL: Untilt
Loker was running through the halls to the room number that Cal had sent to him. There were so many different scenarios running through his head now, worry a tinge to his thoughts. Monsters? He couldn't believe he was actually thinking that, but the more research he did into it, the more it seemed like the truth. And it wasn't as if that was the only thing to worry about. Cultists, and admittedly, not all of the residents here seemed friendly.
He burst through the door and stared at what he saw: Cal, seated at a poker table, sorting through things from some strange watch, a very pretty handgun, a couple not-so pretty guns, a laptop, a drinking flask, multiple bottles of liquor and a very suspicious pair of men's pants. The most striking part of all of this, of course, is that Cal seems to have lost about twenty years. He blinks, his head tilting, mouth parted as he tries to wrap his head around this. Is he..? Yes, yes he really is.
"Cal? Why are there men's pants on the table?"
He burst through the door and stared at what he saw: Cal, seated at a poker table, sorting through things from some strange watch, a very pretty handgun, a couple not-so pretty guns, a laptop, a drinking flask, multiple bottles of liquor and a very suspicious pair of men's pants. The most striking part of all of this, of course, is that Cal seems to have lost about twenty years. He blinks, his head tilting, mouth parted as he tries to wrap his head around this. Is he..? Yes, yes he really is.
"Cal? Why are there men's pants on the table?"