Reply To: Cofficionados Bandits (vs Lucid Dreamers)

As Chico carried the Memory Pie over to Kit, a breeze shuffled the pages of the script lying abandoned beside the gazebo. No one had noticed it before—maybe it hadn’t been there. The pages were blank. Then they weren’t.

Kit blinked. “Did you just call me Trevor?”

“No,” said Chico. But he looked uncertain. “Did I?”

There was a rumble below them. The gazebo creaked—faint and subtle, like a swedish roll turning in its deep sleep.

Then—click-clac thank you Sirtak.

A trapdoor swung open beneath Kit’s feet. But instead of falling, Kit froze mid-air.

The air flickered. Kit shimmered.

And now they were wearing sunglasses, holding a cowboy lasso, and speaking in a faint Midwest accent.

“Sorry, I think I missed my cue. Where are we in the scene?”