(july intro log) WELCOME TO THE CONTAINMENT ZONE! (for real this time.)

[vestigemods]

JULY INTRO LOG

► PROMPT 1 ► WAKING UP

Whenever you're from or wherever you were, you awaken now with the mildest of headaches in-... oh, this is new. For some people, you wake in a cabin - in a bed, on the floor, amidst boxes in the basement - and for others, you wake up somewhere else entirely. Off in the woods. Between aisles in a run-down gas station. Lying on a branch ten feet up a local tree. Perhaps even on a leaky boat out on the middle of a lake. It's mid-morning, and across the nine square miles of containment zone, a little under two-dozen people are waking up just as you are. I'm sure you'll run into some of them soon enough.

This might be your first time waking up where you don't expect to be. If it is, consider yourself lucky to have missed what came before. For those have been through a Loop or three (or five or twelve), you'll find that waking this time feels different. It's as though you've woken from a dream - and that's what those memories feel like, trapped in the semi-tangible realm between dream and reality, though if pressed you can probably discern that they were undeniably real. (Or perhaps you can't - or perhaps some of the memories are missing altogether. This is hardly a precise science.)

Somewhere in your vicinity (in your hand, in your pocket, on your chest) is a smartphone, if you're able to recognize it as such. The models tend to vary, but they all share the capacity to connect to what seems to be an overarching network, able to connect to others with similar devices via text, voice calls, or even video messages.

But the phone is likely the least of your concerns, at least for now. More pressing is where exactly it is that you've awoken and whether or not you've woken up alone.

PROMPT 2 ► THE CABINS + LAKE

As many as a dozen cabins sit in the general vicinity of the lake, some along the shore and some a bit farther back in the woods. Perhaps you awoke in one, or perhaps you're stumbling into one after dragging yourself out of the lake or through a couple of miles of woods. Either way, you're in perhaps the best place you might have ended up. The cabin's amenities are sketchy but functional, and the kitchen is stocked with food...

And let's not forget about the pamphlets.

On at least a couple of nearby tables or countertops sit a handful of them, fanned for display. They're vividly colored, depicting what you might recognize as the landscape outside, and the title reads: THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU! Within these pamphlets, a conversationally cavalier voice explains a bit about the Containment Zone, which (as it turns out) you're stuck in right at this very moment.


"THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU", summarized


• Where am I?
  Earth. Well - an Earth. Definitely not your Earth. if that creates more questions than it answers, glance to your left and right and ask any follow-up questions to whomsoever seems least confused.


• Why am I here?
  To feed the elder gods with your death and/or suffering in order to prevent any more of an apocalypse than we already had.


• Can I leave?
  Voluntarily? No. Involuntarily? Probably not.


• What do you mean, 'death'??
  Oh, calm down. You'll come back.


• I have very important shit to be doing/people to be saving/weed to be smoking back home!
  Lucky for you: If you go back, we'll put you back right where and when you left off. You won't miss a thing.


• Isn't that how you break time!? I'm pretty sure that's how you break time.
  Only if you remember this place and/or what you've learned here when you get back. Which you won't.


• Supplies?
  Cabins and gas station.


• Cabins?
  Yours. Pick one.


• Lake?
  Safe. (For now.)


• Moon?
  Haunted.


• Who even are you?
  Call us the Technicians. Individual identities don't matter. We may give you sweets and toys but we're not your friends.


• Do you at least negotiate?
  We'll consider it. Depends on what you're asking for. And, of course, on what you have to offer.


• Wait! I'm (insert emotions) and have more questions!
  How unfortunate. Expect your next pamphlet in 4-6 weeks.




Well, that certainly is... something. Lots to discuss, lots to consider. If you're the get-right-to-business sort, that could easily occupy you for a good long while.

Alternatively: It's a hot day, and you've just ever-so-conveniently learned that the lake is 'safe (for now)'. Why not go for a dip to clear your head? The water is actually impressively clear, offering visual reassurance of the lack of abject horrors lurking below.

Those who do swim find that the lake is, as promised, mostly innocuous. 'Mostly' being the key phrase, as anyone who swims out close to the center will find it getting more and more difficult to stay on the surface. As if you're getting heavier and heavier, or your limbs are getting weaker and weaker. It isn't enough to drown you (probably), but you certainly might find yourself considering how peaceful it might be if you let yourself sink.

These thoughts are simple enough to push away in much the same way you might push through the heaviness of your limbs. One could consider it more a warning than anything: Even that which is 'safe' should be treated with proper caution. (Quick and senseless deaths are junk food to the elder gods - tasty but unsatisfying.)

PROMPT 3 ► THE GAS STATION

At the south end of the containment zone sits an old gas station, run-down and overgrown at first sight. It sits alongside a cracked asphalt road, one which (as you might discover) bisects the containment zone from the east wall to the west without a single other building in sight.

You may have woken up here, or perhaps you found it at the pamphlet's behest. Either way, it's a discovery that you'll thank yourself for many a time as throughout the next few months here, for reasons that become apparent the moment you step inside.

In sharp contrast with the outside, the inside of the gas station looks... well, like a functional gas station should. Floors and surfaces seem recently-wiped, shelves seem stocked and organized... It's enough that if you're familiar with gas stations as a concept, you might find yourself reflexively glancing around for an attendant.

But no attendant seems to be present. Just shelves and shelves of goods - perishables and nonperishables, first aid supplies and whatever else one might expect to find at such an out-of-the-way pit stop, all ready for the taking. You might even find an extra surprise. Oh, and let's not forget a nice array of THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU! pamphlets on the check-out counter, in case you missed them back at the cabins.

Maybe you encounter someone here - are they friend, or foe? Maybe they're as lost and confused as you are. Maybe they're reaching for that last fucking can of Spaghetti-Os and you're serious about your fucking Spaghetti-Os. At least one person is definitely waking up in a gas station fridge... Maybe you're lucky(?) individual who spots them and has to decide whether or not you've discovered a corpse where the soda should be. The world (or, at least, the gas station) is your oyster.

PROMPT 4 ► THE WOODS + BARRIER

The vast majority of the containment zone is covered in evergreen forest, populated with wildlife that look and act disarmingly normal. It may, in fact, be a nice quiet place to stroll in order to clear your head. While large swathes of the woods are moderately dense, there are a number of paths to make your way along should you choose to. Birds sing overhead, deer occasionally bound across the path ahead... If you didn't know any better, you might be able to forget that this isn't a normal stretch of woods somewhere not far from home.

But nothing in the containment zone is truly harmless. The blackberry bushes that line many a cabin (you remember, the ones that make your mouth and tongue go numb?) are out in force in the woods, and out here they're even more of an infernal menace: While the cabin variety only cause havoc when ingested, so much as a scratch from the woods variety's thorns will induce a tingling numb in the affected area that lasts for the better part of an hour.

And let's not forget the lovely field of "wildflowers" that definitely aren't not infested with poison ivy. It's a shame, really. The flowers themselves are quite pretty, an array of pastel blues and pinks and oranges. It's almost like a painting, if touching that painting happened to make you itch, burn, and blister for one-to-two weeks.

But why are we talking about flowers? What you're truly interested in is the containment zone barrier, aren't you? That's fine, you're bound to encounter it out there somewhere. It's invisible until you touch it, at which point a honeycomb pattern ripples out from the point of contact. As a general rule, the barrier gives back what it gets: Place your palm on it and you'll receive a faint uncomfortable buzz. Run headlong into it, and it will ricochet you multiple yards back into the woods.

The barrier stretches all the way around the containment zone without a single break or point of yielding. No further buildings can be seen beyond the barrier, nor any real sign of civilization at all save for the gas station's road stretching past the barriers and out of sight. The only thing of passable interest is the somewhat concerning tree sitting at the far end of the field across the street from saud gas station, at least two-hundred yards past the barrier. At this distance, it's a bit tricky to make out what flocks in the tree's branches. Those have to be birds... right?

► MOD NOTES ►

• This log takes place from July 4th onward, arguably through whenever the event goes up - though you're welcome to toss up your own logs in the meantime. I'm gonna troubleshoot the HTML to leave a space for IC dates, but I didn't want to waste any more time on that right now.
  
• Vestige is now open for business! You're welcome to post logs + network posts of your own, post memes on vestigechat, whatever you want.
  
• This log is functionally intended to be a tour of the containment zone for new characters and players, with dashes of mild horror or discomfort along the way. Don't worry: The actual horror is rolling in later this month. (I'm tagging this under 'event' anyway, just to keep track of it.)
  
• You can literally have your character wake up wherever you want within the containment zone, even if I didn't list it. Go nuts.
  
• It's worth noting: None of the cabins are recognizable as the precise one from the TDM loop, nor is the forest fog still present. The forest is recognizably the same flora/fauna, but that's about it.
  
• You're welcome to include a network post with your top-level (or to put it up on vestigenet as per usual) - but don't forget to consult the NETWORK: USERNAMES ARE FUCKY drop-down of July's Infopost before you do!
  
• Direct any and all questions at Trace on plurk/discord or (for slightly slower answers) this top-level.
  
• My deepest most heartfelt apologies for the lateness, I failed to factor in my own godforsaken attention span.
  

Comments

connor | ota

[metanoias]

◦ wake up

[ There's a man laying on the living room floor of one of the cabins. Dead, probably — at least that's the impression he gives off. He's eerily still, doesn't appear to be breathing, and his blank eyes stare fixed on the ceiling.

...

Are you waiting for him to do something? Well, he does — eventually. After about thirty seconds of silence the man suddenly bolts upright into a sitting position, swift and almost mechanical in the way he moves, as if springing to life. He blinks, brow furrowed, then notices the other person in the room. ]

Oh.

Hello.

[ He's calm, as if he hadn't just woken up from his best impersonation of a corpse in the middle of an unfamiliar house. ]

◦ pit stop

[ After the shock of waking up and so on and so forth, Connor finds himself at the gas station for no reason other than sheer curiosity. He has no need for anything this place has to offer but he still studies the aisles carefully, committing each item and their locations to memory.

Eventually he winds around to the fountain drinks and spots someone eyeing the slushie machine. Connor knows by now that humans have a penchant for things that aren't necessarily good for them, and he tries to understand that, but old habits die hard and he can't help but offer a bit of advice. ]

Did you know that a large frozen slush typically contains around 84 grams of sugar? [ he begins conversationally in lieu of an introduction.] I saw bottled water on aisle one. It would be a much healthier alternative.

◦ for north

[metanoias]

[ Connor finds himself in a state that's becoming more familiar than he'd like — one in which he has no idea where he is, how he got here, or what he's supposed to do now. This isn't Deerington. He can tell that much. It feels different though if pressed he'd have a hard time explaining why. He deals in facts, figures, things rooted in the real world. The notion that "this place just doesn't feel the same as the one I was just at" is too abstract a concept for him to fully verbalize.

He wanders, because what else is he supposed to do? After lecturing people at the gas station about the sugar content of slushies he winds up at the barrier and throws a rock at it with enough speed and velocity to kill a man. Watches said rock bounce off and disappear into the trees. Tries to determine what this barrier is and fails. Gives up. Heads back.

He'd avoided the cabins at first because he's really only prone to breaking and entering with the mission is at stake or... you know, that time with Hank, but now he's starting to think committing some light trespassing might be fine if it nets more answers.

It's perhaps fate (Connor doesn't believe in fate) that the first cabin he chooses appears to be occupied. Or, rather, that it appears to contain another light trespasser. The cabin itself looks vacant so the movement he hears in the adjacent room might belong to another hopeless looking-for-answerser like himself. Or maybe a bear.

(Just kidding, it doesn't sound heavy enough to be a bear. Also, no bear sounds. It's definitely not a bear, probably not a wendigo either. Wait, wrong choice-based game.) ]

Hello?

[ He'd rather avoid a fight if he can so he takes careful steps towards the door, listening carefully for more movement, ready to back off and negotiate if he hears anything that even sounds slightly uh... aggressive? Defensive shuffling? Look, he's a very fancy android, he can definitely tell if noises in another room are defensive or not. ]

Is someone there?

[brickbat]

[ north, who deals almost entirely in feelings and finds facts most convenient when they back them, would articulate exactly that, that everything, from the air to the ambient temperature to the soundscape of trees and water, fills in none of the gaps she expects as she comes to. for as many horrors (and inconveniences) as it offered, deerington eventually became capital F familiar, and this--this is simply somewhere else.

she searches the cabin for anything (anyone) she knows, can grasp the roots of, finds, fucking oddly, a jumble of her previous life: the botany books connor could be collecting massive fines on just now, their child singular potted plant, the physically impossible scissors she resolves instantly to keep close until she knows what she's dealing with here (and then, you know, forever after that), neatly stacked together in the dusty, mold spattered kitchen.

once she's confirmed she's alone she does, as they often move in complement, exactly the opposite of what connor chose to start out doing, i.e. she stays put. if anyone is looking for her she wants to be findable. it's against the instincts of the north who fell headfirst into deery hell from detroit, the instinct of a shark who keeps moving or dies, and yet...and yet. she's different now. she's a north who relies on a very small handful (t...wo...) of people only a blink and a breath (neither of which she needs to do, technically) away from herself.

she is still north, however, so after that she begins moving through the house again, this time in search of useful objects (ie weapons; the food in the cupboards is of no use to her even if she did take the time to open a can of syrupy peaches and take the absolute tiniest of bites without swallowing, just in case).

though her senses are only as enhanced as the average android and therefore doubtlessly hears his footsteps after connor has ascertained he's not the only one in the house but that he's probably not accompanied by a bear, but in about a second and a half that ceases to matter; she lets the enormous kitchen knife she was contemplating clatter to the floor as she follows his voice to the other room. there is no hesitation or demanding vocalization back; north deals mostly in feelings, and the quick crunch of a fist around her off-brand heart says she knows who's on the other end.

he looks exactly the same as he did the last time she saw him, which only makes sense since the information feeding her brain says that was...it wasn't long ago, was it?, though that ceases to matter instantly, since she is going to just yeet herself across the room and into a hug that employs every ounce of strength from her Canonically Improved Limbs. ]

Hi.

[ oh hey, that's still a thing. there will now be a solid minute of sheer, unadulterated clinging; connor is just lucky she's not hitting him in the chest like when markus appeared in deerington. once satisfied he actually exists and isn't a software malfunction, she pulls back to look up at him, expression darkened mostly by worry and confusion but also, of course, a spark of self-replenishing anger. ]

You know this isn't Deerington. [ it's not a question. ] And--and Markus would have found us by now.

[ if he were here, she doesn't add. ]

[metanoias]

[ It's presumably difficult to glean accurate probabilities in impossible situations, assumes the narrative who is very bad with numbers, but Connor has at least a rough idea on the likelihood of being spirited away a second time and, by extension, the likelihood that he and North would be the two picked up and spat out together again. The odds aren't high.

Yet, Connor finds himself not in the least bit surprised when a tiny feral cat in the form of an android comes hurling herself at him. Their entire story so far had been one unlikely moment after another so it would only be right that, yes, they were the two these Technicians had decided to pluck from Deerington and toss into... wherever this is.

The general eeriness and impossibility of this place has been so familiar in the worst way, so North brings with her a shred of the good kind of familiarity, the kind Connor wants to hold onto. He hugs her tight, relieved that these low odds had decided to work in their favor again. He would have made it through whatever this place has in store on his own, because he was designed for peak functionality in the face of adversity, but they were better together.

He steps back to look at her — unsurprisingly, she looks just as she had the last time he'd seen her. That hadn't been so long ago but it felt like uuuuhhhh two whole years. Maybe his inner clock had glitched. ]

I know.

[ In response to both things, really.

His internal gps is still scrabbling for numbers, numbers just beyond his reach, and that is not so different from Deerington, but he still knows. This is someplace new.

As for Markus — ]

But we shouldn't give up on him yet. This is a big place. There's a chance he simply hasn't opened the right door yet.

[ A small chance is still a chance. Statistically speaking, you know. ]

[brickbat]

[ North was designed for absolutely nothing like peak functionality in the face of adversity (it could probably be argued, in horrifying fact, that Tracis were made with the opposite in mind: easy to break, easy to replace), and yet that would have stopped her from carrying on not at all. There was a time she considered herself totally alone and liked it that way, even deep in the dark of Jericho with the others; she could go back to that, if she had to.

For all that ...it's true. They were better together. She lets the same knowledge sink in a moment, now that her feet feel even moderately under her checking him over for what limited damage she can assess. Nothing visual, and as per previous mention she has only the average android eyeballs, so--she'll just have to trust he would tell her if something was wrong. To wit: ]

I hope you're right. [ sigh. ] How're your operating conditions? I've run all my own diagnostics and can't find anything wrong--

[ if there's one thing that should be concerning either of them, she can guess. ]

The heart is still working fine.

[metanoias]

[ Connor's special eyes aren't quite special enough to do a full diagnostics scan on another android based on visuals alone, but he can look at North and tell that she's relatively fine (not that he doesn't believe her, of course, but it's second nature to observe what he can, particularly now after all that had happened). Her stress levels are a little high (presumably, probably — if not then nevermind nothing to see here) as anyone's would be in this situation, but she's mostly alright. Perhaps it's not so surprising given Deerington was supposed to be a dream. Maybe nothing there had really happened in any sort of tangible capacity — maybe her heart is still a factory-issued Cyberlife heart. Can she tell by diagnostics alone?

A discussion for later, though not too much later. For now they need to figure out what the hell is even happening.

Connor's own diagnostics scan (which he'd done at some point after his abrupt awakening here) had produced unremarkable results which, given recent events, was actually quite remarkable. ]

I'm okay, [ he says, then, after a moment of consideration as though that pesky flu might suddenly come creeping back, ] I'm not sick.

[ After a few days of aches and pains and congestion that shouldn't have been possible this is a relief. It might have been enough to lull him into a false sense of security, to instill the idea that this place is more real world adjacent than Deerington had ever been, but Connor knows better. He had seen the barrier and the new faces from worlds away. This is Deerington with the warm mid-century smile stripped away. He doesn't trust it. ]

Have you been outside?

[brickbat]

[ Narrative has retroactively just realized North should almost certainly have had the flu, since like fuck was she getting that shot, so maybe they were miserable and achey for a couple days (not that North would have noticed, on top of already being post-death miserable and achey), while Markus cared for them like the beautiful, incapable of illness angel saint he is. Narrative will also decide right in this moment that no, North couldn't tell the difference as long as either thirium pump kept working normally. Although it might be worth opening her chest to check, and isn't that a sentence.

Meanwhile her stress levels are, correctly assessed, about Deerington Standard High, returning to relatively normal slow now that she has an anchor. That Markus isn't with Connor is--it should make her feel more defeated, that she's not surprised, but if he's not here she has to keep in her (possibly offbrand) heart that he's home, with their people. According to what he'd told them the brief time they'd all been together, the world really did just stop for those who were gone.

That leaves just right now to worry about, and by worry North means surmount, if necessary by climbing with her teeth. She touches the back of one hand to Connor's cheek and finds it cool, which is comforting - given an android's reaction to extreme heat a fever was probably legitimately terrifying - and steps out of the hug, reluctantly, without actually leaving his orbit. Looping their fingers together for security (physical, mental, emotional, pick any combination of the three) comes second nature by now. ]

Not yet. It looked like more of the same bullshit, and if you were here I wanted you to be able to find me.

[ The same bullshit being recognizably not Detroit. She is not, of course, capable of being this blase about it, and steps back entirely for a moment to ball her hands into fists and then, uh--punch the nearest wall. Which pops a hole right in the plaster, and North has absolutely no idea how to drywall, and that's just such irrelevant nonsense her frustration tips over into tears of sheer inexpressible rage. ]

Shit.

[ ....about just, all of that. ]

Why does this keep happening?

pit stop

[keeperofkeys]

I was trying to decide how fresh they might be. [Everything in this place seems a bit... old. Not that she's looking at best-by dates, it just all feels very old in here.

Though she is wearing one of those shirts with the ridiculous sayings on them, which hangs down to her knees, much too big for her slight frame.]

Water would probably be better. Though I'm never one to turn down a soda.

[metanoias]

Oh.

[ Connor looks pensively from the girl to the drink machines, the little LED ring in his temple flickering yellow for a second before cooling back to blue. He's thinking — true, these things are Very Bad For You but another human had once taught him that sometimes people like things that aren't necessarily good for them and sometimes that's okay. One sugary drink wouldn't be so bad, would it? Perhaps he should take the chance to offer help instead of using the moment to peddle the benefits of Crisp, Cool, Refreshing Water™. ]

I could check, if you want to be sure. I should be able to determine if these are safe for human consumption.

[ "Should", because the last place he'd been unceremoniously spirited away to had been known to mess with his fancy android abilities from time to time. He hadn't been here long enough yet to know if this place might do the same. ]

[keeperofkeys]

Oh no, it's all right. I probably shouldn't have one anyway. They rot your teeth. [But it's said with a certain amount of distraction, because she's watching the LED ring change colours with utter fascination.]

What does that mean, the colours? What do they do?

[metanoias]

Oh.

[ There was a time when meeting someone who'd never encountered an android was nearly unbelievable but Connor has grown accustomed to it. Fortunately he doesn't mind questions — it's only when someone crosses the line into treating him like an appliance that he becomes truly annoyed. ]

This is an LED. It's an external feedback indicator designed to relay information about an android's internal processes and overall condition. [ He pauses, then in the event that it's not overtly obvious, he helpfully adds: ] I'm an android. My name is Connor.

[keeperofkeys]

An android! I've never met a human robot before. Only a wind up cat that rode a unicycle. But it didn't have the LED that you do. Not very advanced, I don't think.

But he was made by a friend, and that makes him special.

[metanoias]

This cat sounds very interesting, but I don't think we're quite the same. I'm not just a robot programmed to perform specific tasks; I'm more than that. I'm a living being.

[ Probably, in most worlds, an android smiling and declaring themselves alive is a little scary. Maybe a little Black Mirror — it's hard to say as the narrative has never actually watched Black Mirror. The thought doesn't occur to Connor either way.

Also, it goes without saying he's curious to hear more about this cat. He just has to Preach the Good Android Word first. ]

Also, I feel I should mention that most androids probably won't like being referred to as a "human robot."

wake up.

[mannerless]

( wei wuxian isn't entirely sure why he's still checking out cabins. they've already chosen theirs, already settled into it (to the best of their limited ability at the moment), already begun to work their way through the cabinets and fridge full of food. if he has to make an excuse, scavenging for further food is a good one. there are four of them living there, how fast can three other people eat him out of house and home?

but in this particular cabin, he doesn't even quite make it to the kitchen before he's distracted by the very dead man in the middle of the floor. unnaturally dead, as if he's been carefully lain there instead of fallen to some sort of wound (no blood, either) or unseen ailment. the little folded papers did mention that they were going to die. he just hadn't expected it to be quite so soon, y'know?

he... definitely keeps on going through to the kitchen (albeit with frequent glances back at the eerily intact corpse), if only to loot the fridge for a prized chocolate pudding cup before he strolls over to the dead man with quite a bit more nonchalance than he feels.

wei wuxian crouches beside the man now, humming thoughtfully before drawing his flute from his belt. it's extended a little over halfway in an effort to give the man's side a poke when the corpse sits bolt upright, sending wei wuxian cursing and scrambling back in haphazard alarm.

alarm which quickly fades to laughter, and shifts cross-legged instead, wagging the end of his flute at the man now. ) That was-, that was good, ( he commends, because whether or not the prank was intentional is entirely irrelevant to how badly it got him. he's lucky he hadn't opened his pudding cup, or he would've ended up with chocolate goop every which way. )

[metanoias]

[ Connor's LED cycles yellow as he processes what he's looking at here. His eyes linger on the laughing man, this man dressed in ancient clothing, holding a flute, who looks jarringly anachronistic in this... cabin? (processing processing processing) They're... in a cabin. Alright. (processing processing) Connor struggles to get a hold on their location but he can't — not unlike what's come to be normal in Deerington. Is he still in Deerington? It seems likely, at this point, but he's never seen a place like this there before. And he feels different, somehow, though he can't quite figure it out.

Then the man speaks, interrupting Connor's thoughts —

That was good, he says. What was? Connor waking up? Yes, that was definitely good. His LED cools, flickering back to a steady light blue. ]

Agreed, [ Connor says, ] I would prefer to maintain full functionality. [ Not that he would have been, like, aware if he'd been laying on the ground shut off forever but it's nice to be back. Even if he has no idea where he's come back to. ]

I'm sorry if I startled you — is this your home?

[mannerless]

( ah, well - that's not exactly what he meant, but sure, it's good to be alive. fully-functional. what an odd way to put it. similarly odd: the yellow glow along the side of his forehead, spinning in some sort of circle. interesting.

wei wuxian has just enough courtesy not to stare, nor does he bother to clarify what so funny or 'good'. the apology earns a shake of his head, dismissing it as not a big deal, and - )

This? ( a glance around. ) Ah, no, no one lives here. Or I suppose you live here? It's certainly not the worst of them, some of the others hardly have a roof.