⋆ Video Game Star !! ☆ TnT Duo !!

ENERVATION

The last thing Wilbur remembers is the smell of the table he'd passed out on. Pinewood, some odd varnish, sweat, cologne... well, maybe that was just his cologne, not the table.

Wilbur can still smell it. He groans, rolling onto his back. The covers and sheets pull at his waist. He hiccups, trying to rub the sunlight off his eyes. The bed is comfy. Too comfy. Too... silky.

Wilbur moves, sitting up. He blinks a few times and is met with the interior of a... hotel? A very fancy hotel. An unfamiliar hotel.

Wilbur throws the blankets off, scrambling out of bed. He stumbles, falling into the nightstand with a yelp. The expensive-looking glass lamp on it crashes to the floor, shattering. Of course it shatters.

Wilbur curses, wincing and kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of glass. The lamp was made of alternating panes of black and red, with... card suits on them? He picks up two pieces of glass, two halves of a diamond, and it all comes rushing back. He knows where he is.

Before Wilbur can manage another thought, the door opens. A man makes a startled noise, eyes widening a fraction, hand going to the receiver clipped to his belt.

Wilbur gasps, stumbling forward. "W-Wait!" His voice is hoarse, and it cracks when his hand lands on a piece of sharp glass. He moves back, hand pulling closer to his chest, and looks up with what he hopes comes off as desperation.

"Soot?" Quackity breathes, eyes narrowed. His eyes go to the shattered glass of the lamp.

"Soot?" Wilbur parrots.

"You're not Wilbur?" He sounds appalled, and his expression furrows.

"...yes. I mean no. I mean- kind of." Wilbur sighs, sitting back, looking at the palm of his hand. He looks up again when he hears the click of the receiver being removed from Quackity's belt. "Just- wait! Wait."

"Why?" Quackity shifts his weight, and Wilbur finds himself studying the pale scar stretching across one of Quackity's eyes. Quackity's mouth opens to say something, but the noise dies in his throat. He just looks, tilting his head.

"I'm not the.. I'm not your Wilbur, okay? Two different people. I..." must be dreaming. He groans. What a difficult dream.

"My Wilbur? Hes not mine. Hes his own thing. Why... don't tell me this has something to do with his fucking limbo." Quackity groans, free hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"No, no no. This isn't- well." Wilbur bites at his lip. This has to be a dream, but... the cut on his hand hurts. Real bad. And his blood is so... red. But it isn't that odd to dream of a video game your designing.. and of your favorite character from said game. No, not odd at all. Weird, but not odd. "Hey, um.. where am I exactly?"

"You don't know?" Quackity raises a brow. "You're in the biggest casino in the world, the heart of Las Nevadas, the room next to my office and... how... you don't know how you got here?"

Wilbur shakes his head. "No clue. Do you have something for my- my hand?" He holds it out. It stings, a rivulet of blood smeared where he'd held it.

Quackity sighs, tapping his foot. Eventually, he gestures towards the door. "Yeah. Come on. To my office."

Wilbur can't help but stare. Quackity's office is just as it is in-game. Papers are stacked on his desk in tall, messy stacks, the window with the fancy framing, the circulating desk fan... its easily the most lived in room of the entire casino, maybe even all of Las Nevadas. Wilbur's eyes linger on the blanket strewn across the loveseat up against one wall, and the door left open near the window. Quackity had a habit of falling asleep at his desk, but not the couch.

"Sorry its a bit of a mess." Quackity paces towards his desk, opening a lower drawer. Wilbur watches as he bends down, wings flaring. They're sad looking, a pale yellow with thinning feathers. He stands again, potion in hand. "This'll have to do. I dont keep first aid on hand."

He grabs a couple of tissues from the box on his desk, guiding Wilbur to the loveseat by his shoulder. He nudges the blanket over, holding his hand up. Wilbur lets him take it, wincing when he cleans it with a dry tissue.

Briskly, he lets go of Wilbur's hand to uncork the potion, wadding up a tissue and letting the potion sink into it.

"Shouldn't I just uh... drink it?" Wilbur asks quietly, grimacing when Quackity dabs at his hand.

Quackity pulls a face."No. I'm not getting your backwash in my potion."

Something falls in the next room over. Not the one Wilbur came from, but Quackity's personal room. Wilbur looks over but is pulled back by the stinging in his hand. He makes a noise, looking at Quackity, then at the wound. It's healed, mostly. Theres a thin white line in place of the cut.

Wilbur studies the potion Quackity has nestled in the couch. A bright red, thick and potent. Brewed by the other Wilbur, for sure. Wilbur clears his throat, watching as Quackity recorks it. "Um, where do you.. get your potions?" he goes back to studying his hand.

Quackity thinks for a long moment, looking down at Wilbur's hand. "I have connections." He stands up, returning the potion to its drawer. "Can you walk? We won't go far."

Wilbur pauses. How much he wants to reveal to Quackity, he's not sure yet. I mean, really, this all is probably a dream. The thought saddens Wilbur a little bit. He bites at his lip. "Where to?"

"A place just outside of Nevadas. I dont suppose you know of my Wilbur's burger van?" Quackity rests one hand on his desk, the other on his hip.

He does know of the burger van. He tries to remember the distance, and shudders at the thought of the heat. It had to be somewhere around noon, Wilbur guesses by looking out the window. That means the sun would be full blast.

"Yeah. Let's go." Wilbur gives a weak smile before standing up, brushing off his pants and cradling his hand to his chest. Despite the thought of the heat and massive hangover headache, Wilbur can't resist missing the opportunity to go anywhere in his game world brought to life.

Quackity gives him a small nod, grabbing something out of his desk. A knife, Wilbur realizes. He hooks its holster to his belt before heading out into the hall, and Wilbur follows.

...