The young woman quickly put on a pair of pants while Dust sat back down on the couch, his eyes fixed on the front door.
Two or three minutes have passed, and he hasn't heard Red scream yet. Which is a good sign, he supposes.
Cherubine returns, looking quite embarrassed like Dust, and clears her throat.
"Umm... shouldn't we go find him?"
The boy lowers his eyes as he listens to her. He murmurs an uneasy "maybe" but doesn't move an inch.
She gets the message and doesn't seem to want to venture outside alone either. The woman therefore settles on the armchair to his right.
The two avoid looking at each other. The silence stretches. The young man is restless, his mouth is slick, but to drink water he has to go into the bedroom to access the bathroom... which would be even more uncomfortable.
Acid reflux tickles his throat. He just frowns and endures.
Despite all his discomfort and the danger he suspects outside, his thoughts begin to wander: about everything and nothing.
About fried chicken with fries, about Red who now has a lover, which would mean he'll be left out? About a rare steak and the fact that the couch is super comfortable su-
"So... So your name's Dust?"
The high-pitched voice that pulls him from his ramblings makes him look up.
Like Red, the woman has blue eyes, but his are like turquoise water, like the sea of an exotic country with white beaches. There's something warm and all-encompassing about her.
Dust blinks to break eye contact.
He concentrates on not stammering:
"Yes, well, it's a nickname I chose... It's easier to communicate."
"Oh yeah, that's a good idea. I should think of one too."
Dust sees she's trying to communicate, and the schoolgirl, helping the woman, manages to loosen her tongue:
"What will you choose?"
Cherubine places her bare feet on the leather of the armchair and her arms pull her knees towards her.
Curled up like that, Dust, who's leering at her, sees that she's still keeping an eye on the front door.
Outside, everything seems silent.
"I don't know... How did you choose yours?"
Dust pauses again, suddenly wanting to press himself against the wooden wall to hear what's happening outside.
But he remains frozen.
Somewhere inside, he doesn't want to know.
If something had happened to Red...
If there REALLY was something in the hallway or in the castle, then what are they going to do?
He answers without really thinking, his whispers dragging on:
"I randomly chose one of the first things I saw when I woke up without my memory in the first world..."
"You're lucky," she tells him. "The first thing I saw was a man-eating plant."
This surprises him so much that his lips part to let out a not-so-discreet "AH."
"How did you survive?"
The girl suddenly brightens, less worried, to explain:
"Oh!" One of the men in our group, you must have seen him, the one with the black and white hair, jumped out of bed to tackle me to the ground before the plant reached me!!
Dust is stunned. He remembers how disoriented he was when he woke up in the dark with no memory... he would have been incapable of reacting to save his own skin in the same situation...
"You're lucky. How... What was your first world like, I mean without the plant?"
Dust has trouble formulating his thoughts, his mouth is slurred, and his brain feels numb.
The woman seems more and more confident as no disturbing noises are heard outside.
Seeing her so relaxed, the boy thinks she probably thinks he's delusional and inventing apparitions.
- It was a kind of garden, but we were smaller than normal, and everything, I mean everything, was trying to eat us... To escape, we had to leave this garden with an apple.
Dust can only let out a bewildered "Ah."
Somehow, he connects the mine to the garden and to Charismatic and Potatoes' medieval village. All the first worlds seem to have the goal of "Escape."
Rules seem to be emerging more and more. And these rules imply logic, boundaries that will not be transgressed and that could potentially protect him. As he's about to ask her what her second world was, the door he'd been eyeing opens.
The woman is surprised; she exclaims:
- Already back?
Red cracks a smile that shows his canines, he pants a little, as if he'd been running up the stairs.
Dust looks him up and down. The man is completely relaxed, his foot casually closing the door as he enters.
In both hands, he holds three mushrooms.
and a full bottle of wine already opened.
A few red drops have already splashed his fingers.
He proudly places everything on the coffee table:
"I was quick, huh?"
Then he turns to Dust, adding:
"I didn't see anything, and those downstairs are still having fun."
The boy doesn't protest. Maybe he really was hallucinating after all. Now he feels a little ashamed of his panic attack.
Not daring to meet their gaze, he stands up, stammering "sorry" before continuing with his head bowed:
"I'll... I'll leave you then. Sorry again for the, uh, inconvenience."
He's already turning away from the "couple" as he finishes his sentence. But the man stops him, laughing:
"Wait, since you're here, have another drink and take one of the mushrooms I brought back."
"What?"
Dust shifts and pivots again to look at Cherub and Red.
The man has already collapsed on the couch, leaving almost no room for the blonde.
A "glass" seems to be just an expression because he drinks like Dust, that is, from the bottle.
When he's had enough, he hands the bottle to the woman, who drinks without hesitation.
She doesn't seem to mind the boy's presence.
Perceiving Dust's hesitation, Red insists:
-Well, yes, what else do you want to do here?
Have fun...
The phrase: "This might be the last time you get one on occasion" isn't spoken but is heavily implied.
The boy doesn't want to impose himself, but he'd rather be with the two of them than with his "delusions."
He finally shrugs, finds his place, and drinks.
His companion's long fingers bring the mushroom to his mouth. Dust no longer hesitates, he takes a bite right away.
He should, though; if he still had all his reason, he probably would have refused.
One piece once made him hallucinate so much that he started running around the halls like a madman. But now, relieved by the fact that for once no monster wants to rip his head off, he immediately rediscovers the joy and peace he felt while drinking with Pony and Charismatic.
So he chews, and the bottle of wine quickly circles around to where he's standing.
He drinks like the others, his head tilted back, the wine staining his shirt, which is more red than white, a little more.
He still doesn't like the taste of this alcohol, and drinking it like a savage makes him sick.
But he can't help but take sip after sip.
Red, at his side, seems oblivious to the harmful effects the mushrooms might have on him. He eats a whole one. Dust has never seen him so cheerful and energetic, although usually you wouldn't call him "soft," but here, here, he's absolutely vibrating with energy.
His lips curl into a jubilant smile. He giggles for no reason.
Cherubine is a little more shy; she refuses drugs but doesn't hold back from drinking again and again.
The bottle empties in two or three rounds.
The two men laugh together without really knowing why and without any other words being exchanged between them.
The eyes of the woman watching them sparkle, her rosy cheeks flushing even more with alcohol. Probably realizing the ridiculousness of the situation, she bursts out laughing too. Except that her laughter sounds like a squealing brake mixed with a squealing pig.
A brief silence ensues when they hear it, then the three of them laugh even louder. With a strange voracity, Red swallows the last of the mushroom, the woman leans over his shoulder.
From then on, everything is truly blurry in Dust's mind; the ceiling spins one way and the floor the other.
The chair he's sitting in floats, and someone goes to get another bottle.