Conversation Space I.

[powersthatbe]

The room is small, intimate. You are alone. There is no sign of a way in or out. Ping-pong balls crunch underfoot, and empty giftboxes, meticulously wrapped and ribboned, are lined up against one wall, while a humming wall of server blades are racked on the opposite wall. A high-backed, gilt chair with red velvet cushions faces an ornate, full-length mirror, and beside the chair is a mug of steaming hot chocolate on a tiny side table, steaming invitingly from beneath a layer of fifteen half-melted marshmallows.

What do you do?

Comments

[powersthatare]

"I am the matron saint of mystery, little bird. If you expect clear answers from me, you must become accustomed to disappointment."

[cawfullyironic]

"I dunno, Easter Bruhnny. That sounded pretty straight forward to me." An answer, just not the one to a question he asked out loud.

[powersthatare]

"You shouldn't say such things too often."