![]() ![]() ![]() They’ve already drained their coffee cups before their waitress even drags her feet back around to take their orders. She could care less that she has dirt under her fingernails, or that she’s had a splinter for several hours now, or that her knee is skinned and crusted with dried blood, or that her hair is half coming down from it’s ponytail and filthy, or that she has dark circles under her eyes, or whatever else. So yeah, they probably look like a bunch of wrecked teenagers, tracking dirt, mud, whatever everywhere (god, her shoes will never look the same, she’ll probably have to throw them out-), but she could honestly care less. The waitress gives them a nasty look as they slide into her section, the only section open as it’s god awful early, butt-ass I need coffee now early, but none of them so much as notice, so wrapped up in the euphoria of not dying. They could rot at the bottom of that ocean for all she cared.) Alex is sure she lost a few quarters somewhere between possessions, but she isn’t too keen on tracking them down. When they get back into town that morning, that first morning, the five of them collapse into a booth at the Pancake House across the street from Camena’s ferry dock and order as much food as they can afford with what little cash they have in their pockets.
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