”Nah, no one sat next to me. I can’t believe you all sat in those gunky chairs! You know those stains don’t come out, right? Smokey said, explaining what tipped him off. He saw the same scene the rest of his team did, and he knew there weren’t any other good seats. While he wasn’t going to complain about the extra leg room, the fact the other good seat next to him was unoccupied piqued his curiosity.
As Serin gives his “explanation” for following him, Smokey just responds with a side-eye and says, ”What part of ‘I’ll catch up later’ did you—ah, forget it. You’re here now, I guess.” He pauses for a minute to think about what to do next. To be honest, he wanted to come here alone for a reason, but that doesn’t seem to be possible anymore. There are only a few shuttles to Atlas from Mantle, especially with the current festivities. Judging from the look of the pilot, it seems he’s done for the day. Most likely, the group won’t be returning to Atlas until the morning at the earliest.
With a sigh, Smokey accepts his fate. ”Welp, since you’re here, I guess you’re already accomplices. Follow me, we got a delivery to make,” he says, hoping to get a rise out of his straight-laced “Fearless Leader” as he turns around and begins making his way through the streets.
The city of Mantle has clearly seen better days. It’s still within the kingdom of Atlas, and as such there are still quite a few technological marvels, not to mention the continued presence of the military (albeit somewhat less compared to Atlas proper). The signs of decay, though, are obvious: there’s graffiti on the walls of alleys and bricks missing from the sides of buildings. The people here don’t look nearly as lively as they did in Atlas, though, to be fair, the festival is in the capitol. Still, the citizens of Mantle seem to just want to go about their day, and the city itself just seems…quiet.
Smokey’s route through the city does little to alleviate the eerie silence, as he guides the group through side alleys and backroads, almost never taking main thoroughfares. Anyone familiar with the city, or even a decently strong sense of direction, would realize BSSM is walking almost fifty percent more than they need to. Yet, Smokey doesn’t seem lost. In fact, he doesn’t even hesitate to make complicated twists and turns through the streets, almost like he’s on auto pilot.
He may even be on auto pilot, as he doesn’t really talk as he meanders about, only really responding when talked to directly. It’s probably a good thing the walk doesn’t last long. It’s only ten minutes (although it could have easily been five) before Smokey’s intended destination comes into view. Well, the most likely destination, in any case.
In the distance, a sign can be made out that reads ”Emberstone Firearms” in big, bold, white letters, with a slogan written underneath, ”The Most Bang For Your Buck!”. Next to the wordage, a set of neon lights depict a meteor hurtling across the building. It’s easily the most prominent sight for miles. However, a keen eye might notice one more thing on the sign: a snowflake is located on the bottom right. It’s not big enough to be intrusive, but it is large enough to be recognizable. ”A Schnee Dust Company Affiliate” is written underneath.