[ Nacho has only figured one thing out for sure: he's not in Albuquerque anymore. Hell, he's not anywhere he's ever been, and after tiptoeing out of the olden-times style shared bedroom he woke up in earlier, he's pretty sure it's not any when he's ever been. There are pieces of mail on the coffee table with his name on it but the dates... this isn't possible. This shouldn't be possible. He's almost ready to write it off as some kind of vivid dream when, while standing at the kitchen counter boggling over how many gelatin molds this house contains, someone else appears.
...she doesn't do much to dispel the dream theory, honestly. Damn. But she seems very real, and uncertain. Unfortunately for her, he shakes his head. ]
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...she doesn't do much to dispel the dream theory, honestly. Damn. But she seems very real, and uncertain. Unfortunately for her, he shakes his head. ]
No, ma'am. I just woke up here.