The ship...Well, appeared to be just that. Sammy couldn't claim he expected any less. On the plus, it certainly seemed
drier than Sammy would have anticipated, which was a nice sort of surprise for the prophet.
The general flow of people seemed to be going downwards, and Sammy followed behind. Below there were restaurants and stores, neither of which appealed to Sammy on a base level (he didn't particularly eat much and what use would he have for souvenirs?), but he supposed he could...
...
What. Was. That.
That infernal racket, that
noise, drumming in his head like the grinding of gears and the switching of valves and the gurgling of ink. It had a
beat behind it, a
rhythm certainly, but Sammy Lawrence hesitated to call it
music. His fingers curled. He trudged over to the
source of this--This
din--And found it in the store area, along with Jack, who he could only supposed was the one to
summon this...This
cacophony.
"What. Is this. Noise!?" His tone, usually heavy and sincere as though he was preaching most every word, was now
unfathomably irritated.
"Make it stop, end it, turn it off--How is one supposed to think--Supposed to function--With this sort of noise!?"
Well, if there was something to be said for the 'song' the stereo was playing, it's that it seemed to trigger some long-repressed part of the former music director inside of Sammy. Still, if an eternally-grinning Bendy mask could somehow
glare at the stereo, it
definitely would be.
[
@Crow @Whoever else
@STORE AREA ]