You decide to keep a low profile and save your fake I.D. for a more dire situation. You try to mingle with the crowd, asking general questions about what's going on...
PINK HAIRED SCALP:
Uhh, I can't hair you. I don't talk to secondary characters.
Uhh, I can't hair you. I don't talk to secondary characters.
CANTANKEROUS EMBRYO:
I'M TRYIN TA COMPLAIN HEA, SHUT'CHA YAP!
I'M TRYIN TA COMPLAIN HEA, SHUT'CHA YAP!
MUSCLE TISSUE:
DON'T BRING NO SWORD TO THIS GUNSHOW! YEAH!!!!
DON'T BRING NO SWORD TO THIS GUNSHOW! YEAH!!!!
HAND:
I don't have time for this. Do you even know what time is? It doesn't grow on just any trees.
I don't have time for this. Do you even know what time is? It doesn't grow on just any trees.
KYLE:
I'M KYLE? I'M KYLE!
I'M KYLE? I'M KYLE!
DIGESTIVE GAS:
Haha! Somebody light a match!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Haha! Somebody light a match!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
KIDNEYS:
No cutting in line! Or disorganized mob!
No cutting in line! Or disorganized mob!
KYLE:
I'M...
I'M...
BLADDER:
Ack! D-d-don't touch me! Who knows WHERE you've been! Filthy....FILTHY....hnnng...
Ack! D-d-don't touch me! Who knows WHERE you've been! Filthy....FILTHY....hnnng...
KYLE:
...KYLE!
...KYLE!
It seems like nothing here will give you a straight answer, when it's even willing to acknowledge you at all. Many of the beings simply continue to berate the intake window, as though you aren't even there.
