"This is the original Rupture Farms, little guy," said a tall mudokon. He had bloodshot eyes, and towered over all the other scrubs. "Rupture Farms 1024, reopened for business." He then noticed the mud's sorry state. "Odds. Are you alright?"
Wash was breathing heavily, that call had not done him anygood. "Not really. I've just been dumped here by some sligs. I used to work in another Rupture, the Docklands Division on the coast? Rough place." He coughed again. "Beat me up pretty bad."
"What they do that for?"
"Any excuse, mud. I keep on trying to escape, an' they don't like it."
Linc looked at his feet, embarrassed. To date, he'd not nearly suffered as much as Wash his entire life. He scrathed his ass for a moment.
"I'm Linc," said the tall mudokon, holding out his hand. Realising that he'd just scratched with that arm, he offered his left hand instead. Wash took it.
"I'm Wash," replied the mud, pleased to have found a friend. Linc's eyes sparkled mischieviously.
"Hehe heh. Wash the mudokon. Are you dirty or what?"
"Ha ha. My sides are splitting," drawled Wash sarcastically. "I've never heard that one before. No seriously, you should do stand up or something. I hear the slig barracks are just crying out for good entertainment..."
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