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theorememes2025-11-03 08:07 am
TDM #1, arc 1.0: we drift like worried fire
BUFF
Bonded of The Sorrowweld will find that the NPCs are especially friendly to them this month. Seriously, they just keep trying to give you things. It might get annoying.
DEBUFF
For those who are bonded to Tarnished Az-Mehet, you keep seeing shadows out of the corner of your eye on every screen in the ship, even your datapad. Something is lurking.
At first, you feel a pull. In which direction, you do not know. When a portal of shimmering black and glittering stars appears in front of you, it only seems natural to step into it. On the journey, it is as if you see everything: ancient galaxies wheeling through space, cultures born and growing and leaving their planets, lights creeping over landmasses and them winking out all at once. You see the hungry arm of a black hole, an enigmatic smile under a mirrored mask, a fist clenched tight around an endless sword. Fangs shining in starlight, bandaged feet that have traveled so many miles and still remain sturdy, and code shattering under titanium will.
And then your feet touch solid ground again, and what you have seen is suddenly hard to recall, the merest of glimpses springing to mind when you try to think back.
All you know is that you witnessed something enormous, something you probably shouldn't have seen.
As you struggle to refocus your gaze, all you see for a long moment is white. White walls, white floor. Narrow white cots lined up against a wall, screens blinking above them in tones of soothing aqua and mint. You are in a medbay — a highly advanced one, given the lack of bulky machinery — but perhaps the most eye-catching thing about the room is a long window showing endless black and twinkling stars outside.
Before you can give voice to any thoughts, a small robot flutters toward you, and perches on the back of a chair. "Hello, Wayfarer!" the birdform chirps cheerfully. "I imagine you must have many questions; allow me to enlighten you! You have fallen victim to a quantum accident and have been pulled to another universe, but the Ascendants, in their generosity, intercepted your signal and brought you here so that you did not wind up in empty space. You are aboard the Theorem of the Astral Rose; our mission is to explore uncharted space and search for the Song!"
They pause, thinking, their little blue eye aglow, and then brighten.
"Oh! Introductions are in order! I am Starling's Lament in Flight, but you may call me Starling's Lament. I am one of the Hosts of this exploration vessel; we will do everything we can to ensure a safe voyage for you. Unfortunately, at this moment, we cannot send you home. The Ascendants have indicated that their search for the Song may play some key role in doing so." They whistle a merry tune. "Please enjoy your stay!"
When you manage to get your wits about you -- it's a bumpy ride between universes! -- you start to leave the medbay. Starling's Lament has indicated that you are free to explore the ship, and nowhere is off limits to you. As you leave the cool white tones of the medbay behind, a hallway stretches out in front of you. Both sides are transparent, offering a view into the long dark of space beyond. However, unlike deep space, there is currently quite a lot to see.
On the left lays the broad curve of a planet, lush green landmass and white clouds skidding across its surface. Its star is just sinking behind it, lighting up the very edge of its atmosphere in tones of engine-burn orange and ozone blue, as long shadows cast by enormous space elevators creep across the landmasses. Its most eye-catching feature, however, are the hexagonal structures webbed across its surface, connected by fine corridors with all the geometric precision of woven spider's silk. You can just barely see the tiny dots of spaceships flowing around them, docking, embarking, shuttling between them.
"That is the Redline Trading Post." You hear a tiny whisper, and look up to see another robot — a beetleform, this time, with a shiny dotted shell — watching you curiously from its place on the ceiling. In fact, there are a number of other Hosts doing the exact same thing; a snakeform coiled around a barrier rail, a catform with bright yellow eyes peeking around the corner, a chirping droneform hovering some distance down the hallway. They're all fascinated by you. "But we will be departing soon. You will not get to taste the Galactic Snowball Nova-Cream, the shining culinary jewel of Redline. Sorry. I hear it is very tasty."
You look to your right, away from the planet and the Redline post, to gaze out into the depths of space. In the distance, there is a nebula, its gasses lit up in shades of coral pink and deep purple. It is pockmarked with stars both young and old, newborn stellar entities cradled in the depths of its life-making dust. Set against the dark of space, it is a flower in bloom.
It's beautiful, except—
The longer you look at it, the more something nags at the corner of your mind. A memory glances across your thoughts, unbidden. Something you hoped for, maybe; or something you fear. Whatever the memory, as you gaze at the nebula, a small piece of it curls, shaping in response to your memory. It is your face, reflected perfectly. Smiling, or howling in anger, or weeping.
Eventually, the nebula will go back to normal. But for now, it reflects the fears and triumphs of the new Wayfarers, a mirror held up in the darkness of space.
Once you make it into the bulk of the ship, the Hosts inform you that as they have just restocked all essential supplies, they will be throwing a party in your honor, and they hope you will sample the food.
Maybe you're incredibly dubious about this. Maybe you're starving after your long journey. Either way, you find yourself in the mess hall. It's less like a traditional mess hall and more like a park full of food trucks with seating in the middle. The food trucks are bright and eye-catching, Hosts serving huge heaps of food from their interiors, as their signs advertise everything from Earthen Ancient Egyptian food (As Close As We Can Reconstruct It!) to Raxalar Black Stew (New and Improved: Now Free Of Grit!).
Real grass is underfoot, and the picnic-style seating in the middle appears to be real wood. The lighting is a myriad; whimsical string lights strung between the trucks, floating globe lights playfully dancing like fireflies, and the luminescence of a dogform's patterns and a droneform's enormous eyes and a flyform's glittering trail. The Hosts are clearly excited.
And if the food happens to have... some kind of effect?
Well, the Hosts say, that's only to be expected! The attention of an Edict may, for a nano-second, turn toward the start of this voyage, and that's bound to make anything go a little wonky. Also, they've used some ingredients from the local system, and it's only customary there to share some thoughts and ideas and memories when you eat together. How else can you properly get to know each other?
This may or may not look appealing to you depending on your sensibilities, but it does smell incredible. Soft, savory red meat paired with the fragrant, earthy scent of the vegetable. The Red Buffalo is perfectly seared, and if you poke them cautiously, you'll find the spikes are entirely edible, as long as you chew well enough. If Wayfarers eat this, they will find themselves sharing a memory with the nearest person, a vision of the last time they were truly happy.
It seems the Hosts aren't quite sure of the appropriate alcohol content of substances, as this will burn all the way down, chased by a cool, sparkly feeling all the way down one's esophagus. It tastes of sweetly sour plums, and a potential hangover tomorrow morning. Wayfarers that imbibe this alcohol beverage will start overhearing the thoughts of those around them, as if they are perfectly in tune with everyone.
Ah, a perfectly homey looking meal, sweet and savory, gently steaming. These are a must-try for any Wayfarer with a sweet tooth, proudly boasting of the agricultural and apiary skill of a nearby alien culture. The buns are perfectly fluffy, the spiced honey is warming. What's not to love? After eating this, Wayfarers will find themselves and the nearest person sharing a vision of themselves as they might have been had they gone down the worst possible path in their life.
This isn't the Cherry Cola! you may or may not be familiar with, but it's interesting that whatever alien came up with this came up with the same Earth word. Or maybe the Hosts got it from Earth? Either way, it's fizzy, it's sparkly, it makes you feel like you're floating on rainbow bubbles. Upon drinking this, imbibers will telepathically project outward a vision of the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.
Dear god. What is it? Who came up with this? Who is even brave enough to try this? It certainly… has a taste. It… has an appearance. Whether either of these things are good is in the eye of the beholder. Wayfarers adventurous enough to put this in their mouths (or other eating appendages) will find themselves uncontrollably speaking aloud of the thing they long for the most.
Eventually, it comes time to launch.
The Hosts are a blur of activity, some of them packing up more delicate equipment in case of errant gravity waves during initial propulsion, some of them herding the Wayfarers into a seating area reserved specifically for the safety of its occupants during launch, deceleration, and rare turbulence. You are informed that engine flare will be so bright it will rival a star for the next twenty-five hours of engine start-up burn, but you will only need to stay strapped in for half an hour or so.
As the Theorem's enormous engines start cycling, the entire ship seems to hum in melodic song. And after everybody is strapped in, that's when the intensity starts. Gravity seems to want to push everything toward the stern, and Wayfarers are pressed hard against their seats with the inertia. After half an hour, the Hosts cheerily announce that everybody is free to get up and move around — but you might want to stay near a window, as they will be doing a low dive through the nearby planet's second moon's atmosphere, and it will be quite the sight.
Soon enough, the moon becomes visible. It is of unbroken crimson red, though subtle shifting in its surface lets you guess that it's water rather than earth. And then, as the Theorem rolls gently to the side, the view in the windows nearly perfectly split between moon and space, that's when you see them, swimming through the atmosphere.
To call them fish would be inaccurate — they are not in an ocean, or any body of water — and yet, that will be the word that springs to mind for most Wayfarers. Some of them are sleek and small, schooling in packs of shimmering white and ochre. Others are long and pointed, appendages pointed backward to exude a bright pink gas that propels them forward and which trails after them like oil slicks in the air. The locals call them x'enuda, the Hosts tell you, a combination of words that mean to fly and cunning prey.
They swim closer, swarming outside of the window. Some of them swim through, phasing through the shielding and windows alike, to dance gently in the interior of the Theorem, darting to and fro. If any Wayfarers find themselves curious enough to reach out and touch these creatures, they will find themselves similarly phased, capable of passing through matter for the next few minutes before the shared electrical field wears off and returns them to normal corporality. The external shield will catch you if you phase right through the ship's floor, but you may need to swim back up. Others may find themselves suddenly craving company, as if the x'enuda's instinct to remain safe in a school is catching.
"All Wayfarers, please report to the docking bay!"
As you filter into the enormous cavern that makes up the docking bay of the Theorem, you see rows of smaller spacecraft. Some of them are sleek and light, like they'd be as free as a feather during aerial combat, while others are bulky and spacious. Many of them have designs in alien languages on them, or bizarre looking mascots, seemingly for good luck. As the occasional screen informs you, you are free to claim any one of the ships as your own, but first, Starling's Lament would very much like to give a presentation.
Past the rows of ships lays an expansive opening in the side of the Theorem, many stories high and wide, a shimmering forcefield the only thing between you and space. Beyond it, you can see the quickly fading shape of the planet and moons you left behind as the Theorem continues acceleration. It is in front of this that Starling's Lament has set up a large hologram of a star map.
As they start to explain once everyone is gathered, the map currently shows the region of space you are in. It is an enormous quadrant of multiple galaxies, some pinwheeled in shape, some circuler or tube-like. A line arcs across it, heading into what is clearly less-explored space, beyond the area colorfully marked as Alliance territory. Eventually, that line stops at a star, which then magnifies to reveal a six planet system, the second planet from the star circled.
This is your first objective: designation Epsilon-355.
There are many stories of which planets the Last Pilgrim has set foot upon, and yet, nobody has ever verified any of them. This, the Ascendants claim, is the closest match they have found for one of those planets in a scrap of story: a land of golden sand and shimmering glass, where pilgrimages track their way across the Golden Barrens desert. The planet is small and unassuming in the hologram, and the details next to it are scarce: relatively normal gravity, breathable atmosphere. More details will become available as the Theorem gets close enough for in-depth scans.
If there any notes of the Song to be found, they may yet be found in the Last Pilgrim's footprints.
Presentation nearly over, Starling's Lament directs you a series of tables that have neatly assembled packages of gear. Once you have picked your Division, you are welcome to claim the technological tools of its trade. You can also look at the spaceships available to claim, or even just watch out the docking bay door as you leave the planet behind and head deeper into space.
Welcome to the mission, Wayfarer.
OPENS ARMS WIDE
He turns suddenly, poor timing after such a question, to glance after a shadow moving in the corner of his eye. It isn't the first time today that instinct has led to nothing. ]
Me? Guess you mean other than being stuck here... Yeah, I'm good. [ There was never going to be any other answer. ]
Do you need some help?
KATAMARIS YOU
( Sarcasm's good, he thinks. That's a personality. That's human. He's reacting to Noctis' presence, and Noctis is reacting to his. It's more than he can say about what was happening before he got here.
Still shaken, still staring, he reaches out a little as though to grab Noctis before retracting his hand. )
Honestly, though? I don't know. You're already helping, kinda. It's been a while since I had an actual conversation with somebody new.
... There's even two of you.
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Hey. [ Another soft warning when a hand reaches out but it stays clear and he relaxes, ever-so-slightly. ]
Yeah, tell me about it... as long as you're seeing it too, at least. Everything's been off since this party started.
... you wanna' sit down? You can touch my shoulder if you think I'm fake, just don't grab at me.
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He's crying well before he realizes he is. A sharp, shuddery gasp breaks him out of his trancelike focus, and he's quick to remove a violently shaking grasp. )
Oh, my God, ( Jonas breathes like he never has, in rasping gulps of air, stabilizing his wrist by pulling it against his chest. ) I-I-I think I'd better. Can... Can you help me? I... I don't know where I am.
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But in the middle of that impulse peaking, he's needed by someone experiencing something much worse.
Without thinking he suddenly re-establishes their contact, his own gloved hand finding Jonas's shoulder in return as eyes widen in a moment of confusion before narrowing with a new resolution. ]
Damn it... come on, we're getting out of here. [ Because whatever visions they're experiencing – still shrouded by his own dual image, a spectre hovering near them both with a gentler expression than the one he now wears – seem clustered in this grassy space. Without direction but with full intention he pulls Jonas, steering him away from the food trucks and into a short hallway that connects to the nearest room. A metallic spotless kitchen, replete with a large island that he awkwardly positions Jonas near so he can use it for balance. ]
There. Quieter here, right? You with me?
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Is he alive, or is this what death is supposed to feel like? Look like? Gardens and food trucks and a vast vista of space beyond? It can't be. They said it was an "anomaly"... he's heard that before. Had his very soul torn from his body for the privilege of encountering his first one. That's what does it. Makes him panic. Not the knowable pain of a hard-fought battle lost, and the cyclical agony that resulted from it, but the terrifying addition of something new that could be taken away, too.
Noctis' face isn't Alex's, his father's, or his mother's, and that's so alien that he's afraid of it. It's also the most connected he's felt to anyone in forever. Because while Noctis isn't familiar, he's flesh and bone, muscle and nerves. Moving, breathing, talking. That's more than he can say for the others.
The counter is there to support him, but he refuses to let go of the handful of Noctis' jacket he took while they were walking. A human being seems sturdier right now than metal, and warmer, certainly, while he feels so fucking cold. )
Yeah, ( Jonas sniffs wetly, taking Noctis' shoulder again. It helps him shut himself off to external stimuli while remaining upright, hanging a dizzy head. ) Yeah, I-I think so. God, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.
Who... Who are you?
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Still, it's easier to look at than Jonas's tear-stained cheeks.
He turns his head to place the drink on the countertop, blue eyes lowered briefly to the hand clutching at his clothes, before he's forcing himself to meet that emotion head on. He's uncomfortable and he hopes it's not obvious, having the good-natured desire to put him at ease without any of the personal experience of handling feelings displayed quite this openly. ]
Ah. Me? [ His hand squeezes, a gesture he hopes is interpreted as reassuring before letting it drop. ]
... I should be asking who you are. What happened out there? Did you get pulled into something else too?
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( J-something. It was a J name. John, maybe. Fuck, he can't grasp it, but it's on the tip of his tongue.
Never mind that now. He briefly wipes at his eyes, realizing they're wet, but relapses into his previous hold and uncaringly continues to cry. It's as if he's leaking now, and he can't stop until the hole is patched. He's going to have to calm down to make that happen, which is a hard concept to grasp when his hands are full. )
There was a portal, uh... space. Like an ocean. So many stars. Then I got here. Then I saw you.
Keep talking, okay? ( It's a plea more than an encouragement. ) I'll... I'm just confused.
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Aa, I saw it too. They said it was some kind of accident that pulled me in here... one of the robots did. [ Not lifeless like an MT, but similar enough that Noctis found himself immediately distrusting them. ]
What about before that? [ He pauses, given instruction on exactly what Jonas needs, but what is he supposed to talk about? ]
... I was having dinner with my friends. One of them complained it was cold, so I got up to go into our tent to grab him a blanket to shut him up. Then... I was here.
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This person... is kind.
And so is his duplicate, its edges softer, blurring, as though someone covered it with a sheet of vellum.
What Noctis decides to say to comfort him is so mundane that Jonas' fingers ease up until they aren't shaking with effort. Occasionally, they'll suddenly tighten, as if to self-soothe, but they never clamp down hard or cause pain—especially to Noctis. )
Are you scared? Scared that you'll never get back?
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Scared? [ It's not something Jonas asks lightly, that's clear, but his reply is ready almost immediately. ]
Nah. I'll get out when I need to. That's not up for any argument... so if you stick around me then you can hitch a ride back when I go.
Do you remember where you're from?
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Noctis' calm calms Jonas. He sounds like he really means it, and that's a flame to a moth of a boy who's never had a guide. Responsibility comes with that; Noctis can't be a saviour to him forever. Currently, however, he's already filled that role. )
Okay, ( said with a hard nod, looking around Noctis' features. Real. So real, and not fucking repeating the same thing over and over again. God. Thank god. ) Yeah, okay. I'll... go with you, then.
Where I'm from—Fuck—My dad is there. He doesn't know I'm gone. ( Only God knows where. His fingers loosen finally, willing to release Noctis when the other boy still has a hold on him. ) ... Who are you?
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He squeezes again, feeling more confident with the return of Jonas's composure, before he nods. His dad, huh...
Even if he wanted to turn him away, it wouldn't be able to be helped now. It would've made his decision for him. ]
Yeah. The guys I was with... I don't know if they do either. I'll get you back to your dad, even if it takes a little while.
You can call me Noct.
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How can you say that? Like, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment, but... ( Jonas trails off, trying to crack a smile. Doesn't work, but he didn't expect it to. It's more of a lopsided forfeit of an expression than a happy one.
Removing his arm slowly, he feels better about the counter. He weighs himself against it, sliding up onto the metal to get off his feet for a little while. )
We're kinda, like... stuck here. I seriously don't understand how you could ever manage that. You can't be much older than me, right? So, are you, like, a... super genius scientist or something?
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Nah. Is that the only kind of guy you think could make it out? Guess I have to surprise you then. If thinking I can get out is crazy 'cause you don't know what's going on, then worrying about it and thinking I can't is crazy too.
[ Maybe once he rests his head on his pillow he'll find himself back in Lucis. Maybe they both will. Who's to say? ]
Are you able to remember anything else now? Maybe starting with if you were seeing doubles of anyone else too before I showed up...
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( Cartoonishly, Jonas rubs his head through his hat as he says this. A self-soothing gesture as much as it is a confused one. He slides it off, presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, then rakes his fingers back through a mop of hair.
So, his fate lies in the hands of a total stranger? The way it did before? At least this guy seems more self-assured than the last ones. Can't remember their names at all, but he remembers the way they made him feel. Lost. Rejected. Alone.
Noctis doesn't. Yet. )
Well, it's, like... I got here and, like, basically had a fit in the med bay or whatever it's called. Then they cleared me finally, and I wound up just walking around. And when I got to the grassy area, I... uh... I guess that's when I started to see things. I know they're harmless—like, as far as I know—but they're friggin'... creepy as hell.
Maybe they spiked my drink, ( he adds with a wet sniff, looking up after a moment of languishing. ) It's so uncanny valley. Seriously. Maybe... Maybe if I focus on something else really hard it'll go away.
( NEVER STOPS TALKING )
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But not here. Not in front of a stranger. ]
Spiked it? Yeah, maybe... To be honest you weren't the only one having a hard time out there. I didn't eat anything, not when it all looked that gross, but I started hearing and seeing things when I was around people that did.
Guess he's a side effect. [ A curt nod is paid to that double, one that returns his gaze with a nonplussed expression. He looks pretty gentle and harmless, at least, which is almost more discomfiting to see on his own face.
... that's a bad topic of conversation though, isn't it? Talking about how crazy things are here is bound to make this guy feel worse, but asking him about his past isn't going any better. He doesn't remember where he's from, what his name is, or how he got here. So... what can they talk about that's not as complicated? That he might have a simpler, more core memory attached to that he doesn't have to think about? Casting his eyes about the kitchen yields a quick answer. ]
Hey. What do you like to eat?
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( Noctis looks at his double, totally unaffected by it. This guy has a will of steel, seriously. If he looked up and saw himself, he'd probably have another fit. Fortunately, even this duplicate slowly fades, disappearing in a lazy swirl of a mist, only for it to reform into nebulous imaginings of savoury foods.
Saliva builds behind his teeth as he repossesses that feeling of gnawing hunger. Like he hasn't eaten in a long time. )
Putting me on the spot here. I guess... a burger. Or, like... ( A heavy sigh is heaved as though he just tried to catch his breath—or stop the hiccoughing sensation after a hopeless cry. ) Man, like, I'd kill somebody for a steak. Just thinking about it makes my jaw hurt.
You know that feeling? When it... gets weird just beneath your ears? I'm making sense, right?
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[ The tiny sound exits his mouth unbidden when the projection beings to shift, finally freed of having to stare at himself but what replaces that figure presents a brand new problem. He too is hungry. Hungrier than he thought he was, able to easily be put off by the odd offerings at the food trucks but a burger?
It's the closest he gets to a lighter expression, eyes softening with recognition as his shoulders lift. ]
Sure, I get that. I don't know about the ear part, maybe... but the rest of it, yeah. How do you eat 'em?
Like that? [ Here he nods to the new platter of food floating just to Jonas's left, a vision of loveliness set out to taunt them. Though that burger has significantly more vegetables on it than he's personally entertain. ]
It's like if you think hard enough about something it shows up. [ ... though that would mean before he was thinking of– ] ... or if something's around. [ Nailed it. ]
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He starts crying again when he sees the burger. )
Yeah, man, literally... literally exactly like that. Just ignore me, seriously... I'm just leaking at this point, ( he adds, trying to wave everything away after he tugs on his hat. There's no sense of embarrassment, no self-consciousness for expressing emotion. It's felt, and he moves on. )
Jesus Christ, I think you're right. It'd better cut it the hell out, 'cause I'm, like, about to eat one of our arms. Maybe we can drum something up.
... Hey, what if they only have, like, that food truck food? It looked crazy.
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Eat one of your arms you mean... [ It's muttered with every intention of being heard, a little joke for them both as Noctis awkwardly taps his fingers to his arm. Then turns, glancing at the fridge... ]
No way that's all they have. Here, I'll look, and you can tell me what sounds edible. [ He pushes himself away from the counter, past the very workable and convenient replicators which he doesn't recognize to instead check out that chilled storage unit. Let's see... ]
Ah, something white... they look like eggs, but they're too small. [ Spoiler, they're normal chicken eggs. ]
Something in a package. It says... hmm, "artificial crab"? There's some red fruit or vegetable in here too. Potatoes next to those, I think. Cheese? Some meat but it's ground so who knows... says "beef" so maybe that's an animal or a code or something.
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Ho-Holy crap, no way. Those are eggs, Noct, bring 'em out... and the crab. Everything, seriously, I could—We could demolish, like, all of this.
( Other people might exist out there and be starving, too. Jonas couldn't care less. First come, first serve; they need to look out for themselves right now. )
Beef is the burger ingredient. I can't even believe—You don't know what a cow is? The fact that they actually have some is—How insane are those odds, seriously?
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That non-expression remains unchanged but for the furrow in his brow, the only indicator of his disbelief and confusion in equal measure. Are they... actually eggs? From what? Is this a "difference between here and Eos" thing or a "Jonas's patchy memory" thing? He decides after a moment that he doesn't care, at least not enough to rob him of something that might actually make him feel better. ]
If you're sure... Here, one sec. [ Those ingredients are pulled from the fridge one by one, revealing the eggs, crab, cheese, and beef he properly identified and then the radishes and pomegranate which he decided did not. All of them are placed onto the kitchen island one by one, and when he's finished he even steps back to behold his pile.
... he has no idea what to do with this. ]
I could check the cabinets too?
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( Slipping off of the counter now that he's found his sea legs, Jonas straightens beside Noctis and casts a look around the kitchen. )
Divide and conquer. I'll try to figure out how to turn these burners on if you check for buns. Bread, you know? But either way, we've got enough stuff here to snack hard.
( Noctis' distraction works so well that Jonas forgets he was crying a moment ago, sniffing it all back as he stares at several buttons on a wide, clean cooktop. )
If something starts clicking, we're in business. Uh... maybe this... ( Boop. The fan comes on. ) Nope. Next.
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[ Who doesn't know what bread is? The same kind of person who doesn't know what a chicken egg is, perhaps? ... possibly, that would be fair. ]
You're not gonna' set this place on fire, right? [ The barbless question is asked with that lilting tone of his, relaxed again, even if he keeps a quiet eye on Jonas when he turns. He looks better. Sounds better. He's not ignorant or prideful enough to assume that's due to his actions, but he does find it in himself to hope he didn't make this much of his recovery last longer than it should've. ]
They've got rolls... Rolls and regular sliced bread, so we can pick. It's not too brown or anything.
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