[Moosh da Outlaw]

Out of Coffee: Forgive my anti-Meech outburst, please. :C

BIC:

Skelter looked around, frowning. Everybody she had been messing with was gone, and they'd taken all the exitement with them. She frowned. 'Odd, what a drag.'
Yawning broadly, she wandered deeper into the cafeteria. She was in no hurry; surely, if whoever owned the place was willing to hire such wierdos, she'd have no problem getting in.

Skelter turned slowly, and spotted a vykker (Krik) glaring at her critically.

"What do you want?" She spat, crossing her arms.

---

Mola picked himself up off of the floor, sniffling. He'd stopped crying, but tears still streaked his face, leaving dark marks as thick as tire tracks. Ophelia jerked the leather belt that was holding Mola's hands together.

"Come on," She cooed, leading him along. Mola followed obediantly, still sniffling. The pair left the cafeteria and wandered down the halls, their feet gently patting the floor. Mola looked around with his wide blue eyes, making sure to stick to the center of the hall; the walls were absolutely filthy.
'Who owns this place?' He wondered, fantisizing about what the place would be like if he owned it. It would be green. And have lazers. He smiled through his mouth gag.