[There's a yellow-ish, creased piece of paper sticking to the notice board in the dining car, and this is what is written on it:]
Want some free stuff? Meet me at 11pm, next car to the left
[The car he's talking about is freaking enormous in regards to space and quite dark. There's sofas in the corners and small tables that provide enough room
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Only to spit it out. To be written down in her notes later: "Beer tastes horrible; I can't understand why people drink it." For once that is genuine emotion right there on her face, folks: Complete and utter disgust.]
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Hey.
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Hello?
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You came for the free stuff?
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Hello?
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Read the note?
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Sweets.
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