With their first disastrous outing officially complete, the team wordlessly agreed on one thing: it was time to return to their white, boring, but blissfully uncomplicated room.
Their walk back was a quiet and weary affair. The city was still unnervingly perfect, but now the perfection felt less like a curiosity and more like a quiet judgment. Gilda's final, weary grunt summed it all up. It had been a long, strange, and very hungry day.
The door to their provisional accommodations slid shut behind them, sealing them once again in the silent, white, and profoundly uninteresting room. For a long moment, the team just stood there, the exhaustion of the day settling over them like a heavy blanket.
"Well,"It was Pip who finally broke the silence, his voice a miserable whisper. "That was a complete disaster."
"A TACTICAL RETREAT!" Sir Crumplebuns corrected him, though his own voice lacked its usual booming confidence.
