2019-09-19 - Please Don't Imagine Dragons

Once a Marine, always a Marine. While Tyrone may not have the haircut or the uniform anymore, he still has a lot of the same mannerisms. Like going HAM at PT, which is what he's doing presently with his one-time commanding officer. Finishing a set of tricep extensions behind his head, he drops the dumbbell to the side and wipes sweat off his brow. For whatever reason, the gym is relatively quiet while the pair are working out. Probably because so many people are checking out the new karaoke machine at the Pourhouse, but who knows.
"No sweat, Cap. Definitely need to go up at least ten pounds from that. Barely even felt anything when I got to the end," he says to Easton, rocking his head from side to side so the muscles in his neck make popping noises.

"Get it." Easton dressed in his usual workout gear spots the other former Marine from behind yelling at him encouragingly. Most in the gym have gotten used to the fact that Easton's volume control is permanently set to too loud anyway, but thankfully he's only inflicting this on a few others besides Tyrone. His gray sleeveless tee-shirt has a good sized sweat stain on the front and back at this point in their mutual workout. Easton is trying to spend most of Tyrone's rest period skipping rope which he's slowly getting better at. It's still a lot of fits and starts though.

"Well don't blow out your arms cause then yer really fucked." Easton grins and adds, "And I'll feel all bad and have to push yer ass around." Leaving the service seems to have either provided Easton with a sense of humor, or more likely freed him up to actually joke around. He wasn't really one to crack jokes in the Corps, but the observant might have realized he also didn't crack down on it as much as others.

"Pft. Gonna take a lot more than that to hurt me. And no offense, but there's no way in hell I'd let /you/ push me around. I'll find some little cutie to feel sorry for me and do it," Tyrone replies, smirking. He picks up the weight he's just finished using, setting it in his lap as he heads over to the rack. "And how the hell can you not skip rope, sir? You're making the corps look bad," he teases as he switches out the weight. "Don't make me get up and show you how it's done."

"That is in fact a much better plan." Easton agrees about him finding some hot girl to push him around. He nearly trips himself right as Tyrone asks him about his inability and he laughs as he flips him off and tosses the rope at him. "Oh really? What does that look like, you lay it on the ground and roll over it?" It takes him a second to also realize that he called him 'sir', after he's already taken a seat on the bench to catch his breath and pat his face with a towel. "And seriously, Easton. Or Marshall. Or Fucknuts. Something other than sir." He adds a bit later, "Caps fine." Because rank doesn't feel as weird to him. Maybe because that's how he refers to Ruiz and often Tyrone. Not that he's really one to talk about not sir'ing and ma'am'ing people to death.

Tyrone laughs as the rope is throne at him. He flails one hand at it, defensively, and then shakes it off onto the floor. Then, showing off, he pops a wheelie and touches down on one side of it, then the other, then back again. "I'm so good at skipping rope, my feet ain't even touching the ground," he quips, grinning. "And sorry, sometimes it just slips out when I'm not thinking. But Easton's a stupid name and Marshall makes you sound like you're important or something. Guess Cap'll have to do until something less appropriate comes along." Tyrone rolls a little ways back towards Easton to start his next set. With a smirk, he adds, "Twinkletoes is making a strong argument."

Easton chuckles at first at the routine which turns into a full on laugh at the quip about his feet not touching the ground. It's the type of dark humor that he thrives on and deploys often. "Really? Tyrone you're gonna cast aspersions about dumb names? Why do you think I stick with Grier?" Besides the fact that he referred to his men almost exclusively by their last names, ranks or nicknames. "I was gonna say you could call me Easy, but nope, after that Twinkletoes crack we're back to Cap." Easy being what other officers would call him. He hands Tyrone the larger barbells and says, "Now shut yer yap and do another set."

"Hey, Tyrone is a very stereotypical African American Male name, okay?" he defends, as if it were an argument /for/ the name, rather than against. But he's laughing, too, and lets the name calling end as he grabs the other barbell. "15 reps, coming right up," he says. And then he lifts the bell over his head, and begins to lower it. Which puts a LOT of extra weight behind him. Which his chair doesn't support. Which sends him tipping over backwards quickly. It all happens so quickly, it's almost hard to notice it happening at all. First, the barbell is falling to the floor. Then his arms are flailing out to the side, instead of grabbing his wheels to right himself. And then, as his chair flips backwards, his head hits the barbell and he falls limp, eyes closing.

Easton doesn't get behind Tyrone in time for spotting him. He's too distracted by them trading barbs about questionable names and he looks away just long enough to miss the action only to hear it and snap his head to Tyrone. "Oh shit." He drops to Tyrone to check his head for any bleeding or massive wounds before he calls, "Grier? Seargant?" For a brief second the urge to call out Doc up! rises in his throat. It must be the fact that Tyrone's wearing his full camoflage uniform he reckons, not realizing for a few moments what exactly is wrong with Tyone being in full cammies. He slowly tips the chair back upright and takes off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forhead. The heat is not the damp heavy air of Kelly's gym now, but a dry air filled with miniscule particles of dust that coat everything in a fine layer of sand. Something about being Tyrone causes it to take much longer than usual for Easton to catch on to what's happening. Looking down at the still limp former Marine, Easton sucks in his breath when it hits him that they've just gotten lost and he really needs Tyrone awake and aware for whatever is about to come next. He reaches out with his mind, his voice somehow even louder in Tyrone's mental landscape.

<<Sergeant! I need you to wake the fuck up! We are in hostile territory and I need you on your A game. Now.>>

Once he's set upright and there's suddenly A LOUD FUCKING VOICE in his head, especially one that DOESN'T BELONG TO HIM! Tyrone is quick to open his eyes and blink rapidly. And then to wince and rub at the back of his head. "Owwww, Cap. I hit my head and then you go and shout at me like that?" he complains. But, thanks to his super awesome sense of perception, he rather immediately notices something is amiss. Namely the fact that he's back in uniform. Blinking, he looks down at himself. Combat gear. Weapons. Pouches. And his trusty m249 sitting across his lap. "What the fuck?" he asks, lifting the gun and looking at his surroundings. Which don't happen to include one Kelly's Gym in any way, shape, form or fashion. Looking up at Easton with bewilderment in his eyes, he stresses, "What. In. The. Actual. Fuck?"

Checking his own gear and equipment Easton is disturbed to find that it's exactly his. Not just the standard issue gun, but his with same scratch and nicks that he knows as well as his own face. He doesn't even realize that Tyrone is awake for a second, he's so lost in his own checking of gear. But then he realizes that Tyrone is actually saying something, "Sergeant, I need you to listen to me. This is an altered reality. It's like a dream but if you get hurt here, you wake up hurt. If you get dead here, you don't wake up. And it's probably about to get super fucked up." Those are the ground rules. He should have Bennie cross-stitch that. The thought crosses his mind and threatens to actually make him smile but a suddenly loud THOOM that shakes the buildings around them displaces any notion of humor or reality, he needs to focus on this place and keeping them both alive. He drops the rifle, letting it hang off him from the strap and begins to push Tyrone out off the street and hopefully towards cover, though the roads are littered with debris and painfully difficult for a chair to navigate.

Tyrone blinks at his Captain a few times. And then there's the sound of an explosion or something big dropping and he ducks his head and adjusts his helmet straps. As Easton starts to push him, Tyrone picks his feet up off of the pedals as he winces at some of the bumps. And once again immediately realizes the change. "... I can move my legs?" And, after a little roll of his ankles, a much more animated, "I can move my legs!" The sound of another big crash quickly curtails any joy, however, and he jumps up out of the chair and turns towards the sounds. "I must have knocked myself out and be dreaming. Let's go see what's making that noise!" He starts walking very non-chalantly towards the thuds, completely ignoring Easton's advice. "Man. Why can't I ever have the dreams where it's just me and like four shawties or something? Why it always gotta be exciting? I think the corps got me hard-wired or something."

He can move his legs. Easton watches and grimaces when Tyrone calls out in excitement that he can move his legs. Maybe he's just been in a few too many of these situations to feel much happiness for the man. He is willing to let it go until Tyrone wants to go see what's making that noise. Easton grabs his shoulder and spins him hard so that they are facing. "You're not hearing me. We are in a dangerous place. If you get hurt here, it sticks. This isn't some random normal dream. We've slipped. Gotten lost." Dammit why do these euphamisms all sound so damn vague. There is another loud noise, followed by what sounds like a building collapse. It's familiar in some ways but doesn't sound like either the double boom of an RPG or the full-body shaking of an airstrike or tank cannon. Easton pushes Tyrone towards cover saying "We need to get up to a vantage point, figure out what we're dealing with and see if we can't contact support teams." No, he has no idea how that works in a Dream, but he had his Marines with him last time. Who knows, maybe they can regroup with the squad and get some coverage?

The one thing noticeably absent is the sound of small arms fire. There's no whistle and ping of bullets. Only the occasional thud and shudder of the surrounding buildings.

Tyrone spits Easton with a skeptical grimace. But ... he's not acting how he would think Easton would act in a dream, so Tyrone at least goes along with him. For now. "I don't hear any combat, we can probably try and make it to a roof? Do you know where we're /supposed/ to be? I don't recognize any of this. I also don't see any ...," he pauses, looking around. "... people .... Not even civilians. Or ... any sign ... of them ...." As it starts to sink in that this isn't his typical war dreams, Tyrone's expression worsens. Looking back at his wheelchair, Tyrone moves over and starts to gather the rest of his gear that is suddenly hanging from the back of the chair. "So should we try and get to a rooftop or something? Do we have an objective here or do we just fuck around until I wake up?"

Easton glances around as Tyrone points out the lack of people which makes his heart sink somehow. It feels awful like the aftermath of something even worse than the war that obviously raged here. The buildings look like the areas they served in, pockmarked by bullets, half demolished by shelling or air-strikes or bombs. But the lack of life is new. So too is that terrible shaking and booming noise that doesn't sound like any weapon they're used to hearing.

"You don't wake up. You survive until you find a way to get unstuck. It's a capital D dream." Capital D, not to be confused with big D. He learned his lesson there at least.

"And we get to a rooftop because I want eyes on whatever is making that noise, cause I got a feelin-" Easton doesn't get to finish that sentence before they both realize exactly what is causing that noise. A large scaly beast straight from classic anglo-saxon tales of Knights and Damsels lands squarely in the street with the same terrible THOOM that causes the air to blast them with dust as it is expelled from the wings as it lands. It's a dragon alright. Easton stands for just a moment dumbstruck by the repitlian monster, sparing a side glance to Tyrone with an apologetic half-shrug of I tried to prep you. But he can't stay still for too long as there is a nice hot stream of fire being blown in their direction which sends Easton sprawling to the ground, covering his head and hoping that it doesn't scorch him too badly. The long arcing sweep of fire burns towards Tyrone, his equipment and his chair.

The dragon is not Godzilla, it's a mere twenty feet tall at best when standing, though it is far longer from snout to tail when in flight.

"What the shit!" Tyrone exclaims as a dragon drops in on them. It's definitely not a question. And then there's fire! Kicking his wheelchair out of the way, Tyrone dives for cover behind a wall and starts trying to collect his wits. Because it's a fucking dragon. But, his Captain is out there, in the open, so he does what the SAW gunner is /supposed/ to do for his squad. He cocks the M249, flips off the safety, then leans around the corner to lay down some, "COVER FIRE!"

From around a corner of one particularly wrecked building steps a slender form coated in glittering mail. Medieval. Or maybe more Fantasy then true medieval. The wearer is Haven who looks pretty much as she does in the "real world," though here she has a set of pointed ears to go along with her short blonde pixie cut. A belt encircles her waist and on it is a fairly standard looking sword.

As she comes into sight, she bears a supremely confused look on her face and looks across the way towards the soldiered up Tyrone and also Easton. That's about when the dragon lands with a thump between her and the other two men.

"Well. Shit."

Easton keeps his head down while the flame passes over him, and he manages to roll out of the way of most of the actual flame and heat. He hears Tyrone's yell and for a brief moment has an overwhelming sense of deja vu despite the fact that he's never actually run away from getting burnt alive by a dragon before.

The path of the SAW rips it's way towards the dragon that at first doesn't seem like it's even aware of what Tyrone is doing. But at the first plink of a bullet off it's scales it snarls loudly and lifts off, with terrifying power and speed the beast is airborne, out of the way of the gun, but not out of sight.

Easton meanwhile makes his way to a covered doorway and takes a moment to breath, settle his own assault rifle in his hands and call out, "Grier move! Stay under cover and don't stay in one spot after firing!" He lets loose his own round of cover fire now. His assault rifle isn't exactly powerful enough to be taking on dragons in flight but he's hoping it's enough to distract it while Tyrone moves. Of course he's somehow completely failed to notice the elf-knightress in the street. Maybe it's because they didn't have those in Afghanistan where he and Tyrone served. Granted they didn't have dragons either.

But the knight does not escape the notice of the dragon. It ignores Tyrone, and doesn't seem all too bothered by the cover-fire from Easton as it makes a dive towards Haven, it's claws outstretched looking to grasp her up and possibly carry her off to save with the rest of it's canned goods before coming back to roast the fresh green humans.

Easton's fire at the beast stops when he sees that there's another person on the playing field. The fact that they are dressed like a knight is enough to throw him off from immediately reacting though, only thinking instead to yell, "Get down!"

When the dragon takes off and then flies in the opposite direction, Tyrone grits his teeth. You've seen the commercials. Everybody fleeing in abject terror as the camera slowly pans after them. And then, running in the opposite direction, directly towards whatever the people are fleeing, the United States of America Mother Fucking Marine Corps. Hoo Ahh. Except, this isn't the corps. And this isn't some abstract danger or knowable enemy. This is a cot dang dragon of epic proportions. Not what Tyrone signed up for. But, he signed up.
So, taking his orders once again from his captain, Tyrone peels out from behind his cover and runs across the street diagonally towards the building across the street, moving closer to the dragon. "PRESSING FORWARD!" he shouts as he makes for the next wall. "I'm gonna try and go up and get my legs down so I can get a better shot at him. Can you keep him distracted for sixty seconds, sir?" he shouts at Easton, gesturing with his thumb at the building he's pressing his back against.

The elf-knight starts moving a hair of fraction of a freckle of a second before Easton calls out to her to get down and she starts to move. Slowly. Too slowly. Still, she keeps her butt moving til she's snatched up by the dragon. Rather effortlessly, really. Showoff.

Once snatched, rather than scream in terror, Haven simply raises her head to look up at her captor. Where, after all, would terror get her? "I don't suppose you speak English? I don't like making assumptions and I try not to prejudge, sir."

Easton calls out, "GO! Go! Go!" to Tyrone at the orchestrated call to push up, Easton fires his weapon up at the dragon, but with it swooping in at Haven he's more concerned with not just shooting her than distracting the beast at the moment. But then she can't drop in time and it's able to snatch her up and he swears. "Grier! Cover me!" He steps out and drops his rifle(?) to close his eyes and concentrate on using his Glimmer to force open the dragon's claws. He basically stands in the path of the flying beast but is able to get the claws open enough to drop Haven. Easton tries to grip the armor and stop her from just straight plummeting to the ground but at best he can only slow her fall.

This however doesn't please the dragon all that much. It drops to the ground and spins, turning it's face towards Tyrone to roar mightily at him. Enough to shatter windows in the nearby buildings, as it's mighty tail swings towards Easton. By some perverse sense of luck it goes right over his head despite the fact that his eyes were still not yet open from concentrating on helping Haven. The tail rips through the wall behind him and brings Easton back to reality with a snap of his eyes. He moves and tries to call out, "Grier? You good?" He lost track of where Tyrone was and now all he can see is a lot of dragon ass. He tries to move around the beast to get a better vantage.

Meanwhile the roaring mouth is now more interested in possibly chomping at former Marine sergeant in front of him. Haven for the moment is forgotten on ground.

Whelp. So much for moving into a better firing position. But, battles are fluid things and the ability to adapt on the fly is crucial to living through as much combat as these marines have seen. So, when Easton moves in to rescue the damsel in distress, Tyrone lets loose with the SAW. Unfortunately? "Supressing fire!" is not that effective against the armored beast. But it does manage to draw the animal's (it's an animal, right?) attention and the thing roars at him and proceeds his way. "Uh-oh .... Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," he says and turns to run into the building, away from the other two LESS well-armed individuals. Maybe they can get it in the back?

It's with a bit of a thump that Haven hits the ground. It takes her a moment to raise her head, looking vaguely dazed but otherwise able to move. She pushes herself back to her feet, reaches down to dust off her shiny armor and states flatly, "Rude. I cannot abide rudeness."

She reaches down to her waist and draws the sword, holding it with both hands and rushes towards the dragon who has conveniently put its back to her. It raises it for an overhead slice on the lizard's tail and the blade begins to shine with an inner light all it's own, Tolkien-style. "Time to Foe-Hammer your ass!"

Easton can see that the knight is okay, he can tell because she's currently brandishing a shining sword and chopping at the dragon's tail which seems like it might be skilled in sword fighting? At least it's able to defend and block the blows from striking true.

Meanwhile Easton catches sight of Tyrone in the face of the dragon and he again drops his assault rifle to his side on the sling and closes his eyes. At first it looks like maybe a bit of wind has kicked up on the street and is beginning to swirl around Easton's feet. But then the rocks and debris on the ground begins to lift up off the ground, spinning faster around Easton. Slowly even Easton himself begins to lift up and into the air as now much larger debris and even pieces of broken down vehicles swirl in the air around him. His eyes remain closed as he gathers the garbage around him in a mini cyclone. And then his eyes open and he directs it stream of objects at the dragon's head slamming into it with vicious force and knocking it's mouth away from Tyrone. Easton himself drops down to the ground and fades away from their view. He reappears back in Kelly's gym, lying flat on his back, the jump rope tangle on his prosthetic foot. He rolls to the side and is surprised to see Tyrone's empty chair. He coughs, his throat still dry from dust that is no longer there. He calls out, "Grier?" And then louder "Sergeant!" but he's not there.

Meanwhile the dragon is shaking his head and trying to regroup before taking a big tail swipe at Haven and lunging with his mouth to get a taste of some chocolate flavored Marine.

Diving through a doorway as the dragon crashes through the wall behind him as if it wasn't even there, Tyrone manages to avoid becoming half a man again. Looking to his left, he sees a wooden crate just chilling at the base of the stairs. What ever could it be doing there? Scrambling to his feet, something in him urges Tyrone to open the crate. So, using the but of his machine gun, he smashes the lid open, revealing an even bigger, nastier looking machine gun. Tyrone ditches the SAW and reaches into the crate, pulling out the new BFG. Amazingly, it's not any heavier than his previous rifle. He checks it over as the dragon snarls and roars in the next room, trying to free itself from the roof that collapsed on top of it. When it does, it backs up, shaking rubble and debris from its hide.
Exiting the room he'd dove into, Tyrone comes out brandishing the new weapon with a look of pure malice on his face, mixed with not a little bit of joy. It's the look of a Marine who thinks he's about to open up a whole case of whoop ass on something. Now, hopefully, his weapon will perform as awesomely as it looks. Hopefully.

The glowing blade flashes high in the air and with a mighty swing, Elfknight Haven plunges the blade downward only to have the blade bounce right off the thing's scaly hide. The vibration from the force of the blow goes right up her arms. Needless to say, it didn't /feel/ good. "Muggle-fudging buttsnarks!" The blade is simply flung off to the side, which is about when she looks up to see the dragon get pelted with debris by Easton. "Oh good, we have a wizard."

And then Easton vanishes and there is a tail coming right at her!

This time around, however, Haven's elf reflexes are ready and she grabs hold of the tail, using the momentum from its whipping past her to fling herself towards Tyrone, rolling in a tumble and landing spryly on her feet next to the man. "I couldn't help but notice we are a tad outgunned..." she eyes his BFG for a beat, then finishes: "Chocolate Thunder."

When the BFG's bullets quite literally BOUNCE off of the dragon, the Marine's jaw drops. "... shit!" he exclaims, before muttering a litany of swear words under his breath like its a form of art. Poetic, even. With the gun proving useless, he pitches it at the dragon and backs away, just as Haven lands near him. His eyebrows shoot up, clearly impressed, but combat doesn't leave a whole lotta time for applause. "My SAW's around the corner .... Cap said we were stuck here until we find a way out. I'm gonna take a flying stab and guess it's /not/ through the dragon's stomach, so ... any ideas?"

"You know you're Dreaming, right?" Haven responds, eyes locked on Tyrone's face rather than the dragon that's raging nearby. She's oddly calm about this whole thing, aside from DragonRudeness and her dragon hide bruised arms. "There's an exit nearby, we just need to find it and go through it. If we stay here, we might kill the dragon. Or not. Or something wicked might this way come along." Reaching down, she grabs one of the Marine's hands in her comparatively tiny ones.

"Yeah, Cap said some shit about that, but he also said it's real as fuck, so. If you know a way outta here, I've had my fill of our friend Puff over there," he says, nodding his helmeted head in the direction of the dragon, which is whirling around, trying to find where Haven went. Because that sword in the back didn't feel nice. "Lead the way, ma'am," he says, taking a tight- but not TOO tight- grip on her hand. And where she may have gauntlet, he's wearing combat gloves, so! No sweaty palms for these two!

"And what do my elf eyes see?" Haven murmurs to herself, eyes losing focus as she looks all around them, including at blank walls. Finally, she says, "There's one over there." With her free hand, she motions to the far side of the street. Past the Dragon, naturally. Because of course it is.

"Well." And then she's running towards it as fast she can manage, pulling Tyrone after her. "I f-ing hate Dragons anyway. Give me a unicorn any day of the week!!"

It's about when she's voiced this opinion that the Dragon notices their movement and whips its tail, hitting Haven in the back, ripping her hand from the soldier's grip and sending her sprawling into the rubble further on down the street.

And they're off! Tyrone is keeping up with Haven even though this is the most he's run in nearly a year. And then the Dragon spots them and fwhip Haven becomes an airborne projectile. Tyrone had /tried/ to hold on to her, but that failed. And, since he's left empty handed, his SAW being all the way back over /that/ way ... he does what comes to mind next.
Balling his fist, Tyrone reaches way back into the next county and unleashes a haymaker of colossal proportions into the dragon's flanks. He connects and nothing happens. So, he punches again. Same result. Finally, on the third blow, the dragon turns away from Haven and swipes at Tyrone, sending him flying through the air. If this were a comedy movie, it would go into slow motion and they would play, "Proud to Be An American" as he spins through the air. But this ain't a movie and there's nobody to cue a jukebox, so the only sounds are the intial shout of shock when he's swatted and then the crunching, crumbling sound as he's knocked through a wall and then slides the rest of the way across the street. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

Another faceplate. Another mouth full of Apocalyptic City Dirt. Haven shakes her head and spits off to the side on some rocks. Then she frowns. "That's it." Once again she pushes to her feet, but this time when she turns to find the dragon, she stops. Why?

Because standing off to the side of the on-going battle and completely incongruous to what's happening, is a Unicorn. Brilliant white coat. Pearly horn.

"That's more like it."

As if it was there for her, she mounts it easily and leading it with a tug on its mane, she squares up on the Dragon. A squeeze of her heels later and she charges the beast from behind. "It's stabbin' time!"

The Unicorn? Neighs and obliges.

When you're tossed around like a ragdoll, it kinda reorientates your concept of life. So it takes Tyrone a few seconds to move as he lays in the pile of rubble. It's not even the pain- that doesn't hit him right away. It's the pure shock of being thrown threw a wall and halfway down a block. But hey, at least he's closer to that exit Haven was talking about.
After several seconds, there's a cough, then a groan as Tyrone stirs. He pushes up onto an elbow, a mound of dirt and debris cascading off his uniform and helmet. There's blood below him and he reaches up to touch his face, bringing his hand away bloody. So he's cut. And the pain that suddenly registers in his torso feels like some of his ribs may not be where they're supposed to be. And he's gonna be HELLA sore later. But, he's not dead, and since he's moving, he's not injured, so being hurt is no excuse for a Marine to stop. With a loud groan, he pushes onto his eblows, then his knees, and then up, just in time to see Haven mount the ... oh what the heck is this? A unicorn? Tyrone blinks several times, then decides not to think about it any further. "I thought we were leaving?" he shouts after her, stumbling a little as he makes in the general direction Haven had indicated.

To be fair, the Unicorn does most of the work as its horn plunges into the Dragon's side, causing it to roar in pain. Haven looks over her shoulder at Tyrone as he shouts her way, "Alright alright alright," she grumbles, her momentary satisfaction at one mythical creature causing another mythical creature (who also happens to be an asshole) intense pain. Her nose wrinkles up and she jumps off her mount and runs after the soldier. "You ready to go back to Kansas, Dorothy?"

"You think Kansas is better?" Tyrone asks, forcing a smile, which he immediately regrets. Yup. Busted lip. He wipes at his face with the back of his sleeve and continues hobbling away, definitely not outpacing a sprinting Haven. "We get out of here, if you're a real person, look me up. Drinks are on me," he quips.

"Oz has its perks, but I'd rather not get knocked down again by Drogon there," is Haven's reply as she shoulders open the door to a battered storefront. Inside the store is mostly intact and utterly bereft of any other human beings. It's some sort of candy shop. In one corner is a wall of Jelly Belly Jellybeans of all varieties, self-serve. She points towards it, "Right there. It's like Platform 9 and three quarters. Best to hit it at a run."

And then before he can attempt a return to the real world, she reaches out, grabs him by the front of his uniform and boops his nose with hers. What? Expecting a kiss? This is Haven. She's weird. Smiling, she says, "Drinks on you, then. Go on, I'm right behind you."

A boop onna nose? Well! The Marine is stunned for several seconds, just blinking. But, he snaps himself out of it rather quickly and steps back, snapping to attention and offering Haven a salute. "Yes, ma'am. See you on the flip side. Hoo ahh." And then he turns and charges for the door indicated.

When the Marine disappears in front of her, Haven does her best impression of Harry Potter in mail armor and goes running at the wall of Jellybeans. Abruptly she finds herself staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom, painted with glow-in-the-dark stylized stars. She blinks a few times, then turns over in bed, smashing her face into her pillow. "No more eating candy before bed," she grumbles.