O.K., show of hands: glad to wake up here? Pour your hearts out so we can go back to the usual fate-worse-than-death bullshit.

Confidential to PP -- I've got your wrist rocket. It's yours if you want it back -- my aim sucks.

-- Sangamon Taylor

#1 -- DRUGS
#2 -- BEER

Do I have your attention?

I have first-aid kits for anyone heading up to the second floor. Assuming last night's adventure tour didn't throw off the schedule, you might need them. Free to anyone who shows up and asks.

Second, before the yeast grows legs and scampers off to join the mutant menagerie, I've still got beer. Information, trade goods, and IOU's accepted.

M90, bring your own cup, etc. Bonus: rescue squads can have it to go.

B E E R

Got your attention? Good. I, Sangamon Taylor, hereby invite all and sundry, etc.

Saturday night -- that's the night after tonight, for anyone unfamiliar with how we count the revolutions of this planet.

If I owe you one, you know who you are. Otherwise, bring something to trade -- information or matériel.

Room M90, doors open when they feel like it.

-- S.T.

[See OOC note]

Phoenix --

Got your lab results.

-- S.T.

Spider --

Did you want anything else from last night's haul?

-- S.T.