The leather straps were buckled over my wrists, my ankles, and my neck. They gripped tight like strong hands forcing me down on the leather chair where I was reclined. Doctor Barlowe was finishing placing the last of the sticky electrodes to my forehead and I tried to catch her eyes behind her thick, black glasses.
"Please," I begged her softly. "I don't like this one. Please don't make me do it again."
Her hands paused for just a moment, lingering against my skin.
"Please," I tried again. "I'll-I'll try any of the other tests, I swear. Just not this again. It…it hurts," I whimpered.
"Now, now, hush 647," Doctor Whitlock's harsh voice echoed through the room. The door closed loudly behind him and it was a moment before he was visible just beyond my contained legs. "You know why we do this."
I swallowed hard, feeling the usual anticipatory fear swirling in my stomach as Doctor Barlowe took her place at the machine nearby. A metal tray was on the cart beside her filled with two syringes containing a familiar vibrant orange liquid. Uselessly I tugged at my restraints.
"647, let's not make this more difficult than necessary, hmm?" Doctor Whitlock hummed. "You know what you have to do if you don't want to feel the pain." He crossed his arms across his chest, the ID tag on his white lab coat now obscured at the gesture. His eyes focused on the young female doctor beside me. "Administer a dose of MGA."
Doctor Barlowe lifted one of the syringes filled with orange and slid her chair beside me. It was a moment before I felt the familiar sting of the needle in my forearm. Shortly after, the telltale burning raced its way up my right arm through my veins. My eyes clamped shut immediately, my head slamming back onto the leather of the chair as a whine escaped my lips.
"Why don't we increase the voltage a bit this time?" Doctor Whitlock mused aloud to Doctor Barlowe. "Maybe it'll be the bit of motivation it needs."
"No," I whined out between gritted teeth. "Please."
"You can stop the pain yourself 647," Whitlock's voice said coolly. "If you don't want to feel the shocks, stop them. Use your mind." There was a pause and a sound of footsteps before Whitlock's voice came from closer beside me. "Begin, Barlowe."
Sharp, burning pain immediately jolted my brain and my body tensed up at the shock. My arms and legs strained at my restraints; my airflow was briefly halted as the restraint around my neck bit so sharply into my throat the passageway closed. It was a few seconds before the pain disappeared and my body momentarily slackened in the seat. Tears were stinging behind my eyelids as a light sheen of sweat began forming across my body.
"Hmm," Whitlock hummed as he presumably eyed the screen beside Barlowe. "It is showing more brain activity with the increased voltage."
"It's definitely a noticeable increase from last time," Barlowe agreed.
"Please, stop," I whimpered. My eyelids fluttered open slowly and I glimpsed Whitlock rubbing his chin in thought. "No more," I choked out.
"Try again," Whitlock ordered, disregarding me. "Increase the voltage."
A scream shot out of me before my mouth clamped shut as another rush of electricity was sent racing through the electrodes on my forehead and my body seized up at the pain. I could see bright white behind my eyelids despite how tightly they were clamped shut. It was another few moments before the shock dissipated. A ringing filled my ears at the absence of the pain and it took a moment to make out what the voice beside me said.
"It's bleeding, sir," Barlowe pointed out.
"Just a bit lip, nothing serious," Whitlock said simply, his voice cutting through the ringing. "Though I suppose you should get the gag again; we don't want it to bite its tongue off."
There was a rustle of movement in the room that I faintly heard. Tears were freely rolling down my cheeks as I stared up at the white ceiling and the bright lights above. Moments later, Barlowe's face came into my vision along with the clear mouthpiece they used to shove into my mouth when the electrical shocks had first begun. Eyes widening, I sent her a pleading look but she kept her attention focused on the lower half of my face. Her gloved fingers roughly wrenched open my mouth and she forced the uncomfortable plastic in. I choked back a sob awkwardly around the contraption, the hard edges cutting into my gums.
"Let's continue, shall we?" Whitlock asked smoothly.
The electrical shock came back again and my body tensed at the pain.
A scream escaped me and I bolted upright, chest heaving quickly. Panting hard and disoriented, it took my brain a few moments to recognize where I was. My body was lightly covered in cold sweat and I was tangled up in the dark gray sheets of my bed.
It was only a dream; a memory.
"You're in Hell's Kitchen," I murmured to myself. "Not The Facility. I'm home. I'm safe." I shut my eyes tight, wrapping my arms around myself. "They can't hurt me. Just a dream."
Trying to focus my attention on my breathing, I inhaled slowly and held a breath, counting to five before I exhaled long and slow. I repeated the process for a few minutes until my breaths were more controlled. Slowly, my body relaxed into a calm state. When I opened my eyes again, I wiped a hand over my forehead, sliding back the sweatied strands of blonde hair that had stuck to it in my thrashing fit of sleep.
I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed my phone. The light lit up the darkened bedroom and I squinted, letting my eyes adjust before I could read the time: 5:37AM. I set the phone back onto the nightstand and rubbed the heels of my hands roughly across my eyes. I'd calmed down from that dream but I was certainly too wound up for sleep now. With a huff, I threw the sheets off of me and swung my legs to the side of the bed. I raised my arms up over my head, feeling the pull of muscles in the stretch, before I got up and made my way to my dresser. Opening the middle left drawer, I dug around for a sports bra and a pair of leggings.
Hurriedly, I pulled the loose cropped tank top I had been sleeping in over my head before slipping on the sports bra. I changed my sweatpants for the black leggings I'd grabbed and tugged them up before crossing the room to my closet and pulling the door open. My eyes landed on the navy track jacket that I quickly pulled out and zipped up. I slipped my phone into the pocket of my leggings and grabbed my earbuds before heading out of my bedroom.
The living room of my new apartment was still covered in shadows cast from the large loft windows. I paused for a moment, enjoying the beautiful view of the city on the sixth floor. The place hadn't been cheap to rent, but it was worth it for that view while I worked. I slid the earbuds into my ears, turning my attention towards the entryway behind me that was separated by a wall. I headed over and grabbed the running shoes I always kept near the door and slipped them onto my feet, making sure to tie the laces tight. I grabbed my keys from the console table near the door and then I exited the apartment, locking up behind me. I made my way to the end of the hall where the elevator was and pushed the call button. As I waited, I turned on a playlist I'd made for running; a minute later the elevator doors opened and I stepped inside, pushing the button for the lobby.
As the elevator lurched downwards, the dream came back to me. I winced, raising a hand to rub at my temple as I remembered the pain of the shocks.
"If you don't like the pain, 647," Whitlock chided, "use your mind. Make it stop."
I shook my head rapidly, trying to push the memory of his voice out of my head.
"No," I whispered. "No, you're not here. Go away."
"You were born for this. This is your purpose," Whitlock's cold voice said. "Be good and sit still now or we'll get the restraints."
My jaw clenched, tooth grinding hard against tooth as my nails dug into the palms of my hands. The elevator doors suddenly opened with a ding that faintly registered around the music in my earbuds. Rage burning inside, I exited the elevator and the lobby of my apartment building and took off at a run the moment my feet hit pavement.
I pushed my legs, feeling them beginning to burn after I'd made it a few blocks. I ignored the pain building inside them; my only focus was on my breathing and the music in my ears. Everything else faded out behind me. I only registered the light traffic when I needed to cross a street; the sidewalks were mainly empty which made it easy to run at my full speed. It wasn't until it felt like my lungs were on fire inside of my chest that I finally came to a stop, chest rapidly rising and falling. I threw my hands up over my head in order to even out my breathing faster as I continued walking forward, a sharp pain in my left hip at the movement.
The sun was just beginning to peak up behind the tall buildings of the city. Everything was slowly losing the dark shadows of the night to be replaced with the beautiful orange glow of the morning. And with the change from dark to light, I pushed my fears aside and took a right, heading back towards my apartment building. I had to work in a little bit and I wanted a shower before I settled down at my desk.
The walk back to my apartment took just under fifteen minutes since traffic had picked up with the sunrise. Mindlessly, I made my way through the lobby to the elevators, grateful when a man exited one and left it empty. I briskly walked over, hopping in and pushing the button for the sixth floor before leaning against the wall of the elevator as it began its ascent to the top floor. I pulled my phone from the side pocket of my leggings and turned off my playlist before pulling the earbuds from my ears. The doors opened and I made my way out, focused on trying to hold everything in one hand while digging my keys from my pocket with my other hand. I was so focused on the task that I didn't realize there was a man knocking on the door across from my apartment. It wasn't until I'd stopped in front of my door that I noticed him. Out of politeness I sent him a smile before fumbling with the keys in my hand.
"Hey, you're the woman who just moved in right?"
I paused at the words, my hand with my keys hovering just in front of my lock. My mouth twitched before I exhaled a deep breath.
Normal people make small talk.
I let my hand drop to my side, plastering a friendly smile onto my face before turning around and taking in the sight of the man across the hall. He had shoulder length blonde hair and a bright, genuine smile on his face. He was dressed in a white shirt with a light blue tie, a gray suit jacket and matching gray slacks. He was carrying a tray with two coffees and a brown paper bag that I assumed held bagels judging from the smell.
"Yes, just last week," I told him.
He adjusted the bag and the tray of coffee in his hands before he hurriedly took a few steps, crossing the distance in the hall between us. He outstretched his now free hand to me, the friendly smile still on his face. I eyed his hand warily, forcing the smile to remain on my face.
"My name is Franklin, but everyone usually calls me Foggy," the man continued, either unaware or unconcerned with my stillness and hesitancy.
I cleared my throat before reaching out and taking his hand, giving it a brief shake.
"Olivia," I offered in response.
Foggy's smile widened even more, if possible. "Nice to meet you, Olivia! I was actually just waiting for my friend, Matt–your neighbor. We work together. Just started up our own law office, actually."
My head tilted to the side curiously, a brow raised as I surveyed the man before me. He seemed genuinely friendly, albeit very eager to connect with me and I wasn't entirely sure why. Most people in the city weren't this forthright.
Suddenly, the door clicked behind Foggy. I expected to immediately be greeted with a man, but it was a white cane that emerged first, tapping along the floor, before my neighbor actually appeared.
"Ah, buddy there you are!" Foggy exclaimed, rushing over to his friend. He waited for the man to lock up before grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to his own arm, the one that was holding the food and coffee. "I was just meeting your new neighbor," he told him, his warm eyes returning to me in the hall.
The blind man suddenly turned his head in my direction, his red glasses glinting from the overhead lights of the hallway at the movement. There was a moment that his expression was entirely unreadable before a slow, friendly smile spread across his lips directed right at me. I felt my breath hitch abruptly, as if I could feel all of him focused on me at that moment. The hair on the back of my neck slowly rose and a small shiver tickled its way up my spine. I could have sworn he wasn't blind in that moment with the way the corner of his lip seemed to tug up just a bit higher.
"Were you now, Foggy?" the man spoke. His tongue darted out between his lips briefly, the movement catching my eye, before he smiled again. "I haven't had the pleasure yet."
Foggy led the two of them towards me and I felt myself stiffen. It was true, I hadn't met him yet despite having been here for a week already. I'd heard some loud banging late at night coming from his apartment sometimes, but we had yet to cross paths. And with him standing there in front of me, it would be impossible to deny he was handsome.
"I'm Matthew," the man said as he extended his hand in my direction. My eyes trailed down his face, distracted by his mouth for another moment before traveling down his neck, past his broad shoulders and the muscles of his arms that were noticeable even under his black suit coat, before they landed on his hand. "But you can call me Matt."
I swallowed thickly before extending my own hand, taking his in mine. His hand was warm with calloused fingers; something stirred in my chest at the contact.
"I'm Olivia," I said softly, my eyes darting back up to his face as he released my hand.
"Well Olivia," Matt said, a small grin on his face as he spoke, "it's a shame it took us so long to meet."
Foggy rolled his eyes at his friend. "Can you not try to charm every beautiful woman you meet?"
I felt my cheeks heat up at his words, biting my lip as Matt let out a deep chuckle.
"I do not," Matt disagreed.
"You do, it's weird," Foggy said before shooting me a conspiratorial look and whispering, "It's like his super power."
"Flirting with beautiful women?" I asked, brow raised questioningly at Foggy.
Matt laughed, the sound filling the hallway, as Foggy just shook his head, a smile on his face.
"No," Foggy amended with a chuckle, "knowing that a woman is beautiful. He always knows."
I shrugged in response. "I wouldn't consider that the most useful superpower," I told him.
Foggy's eyes lit up with curiosity at my words. "What would you consider the most useful one? I personally think–"
"Fog, we should probably let Olivia go," Matt said, cutting his friend off.
"I do need to actually get ready for work," I agreed.
"Right, I'm sorry," Foggy said, gesturing to my workout clothes. "You just finished a workout, you probably want to have a chance to shower without being late."
I smiled at him, genuinely beginning to like the man. "Well," I admitted, "I work from home so I doubt I'd be late, but yes, I would like to grab a shower after that run."
"Well let's not keep you," Matt said, shooting me a charming smile.
I bit the inside of my lip and forced a smile as the two men exchanged goodbyes. When they'd begun their way towards the elevator, I spun around and unlocked my apartment before rushing inside. I locked it behind me, securing the deadbolt.
Slipping out of my running shoes, I left them by the door before dropping my keys on the console table and making my way down the entry hall and into the living room. My eyes darted to the stove in the kitchen, reading the time: 6:27AM. I had a half an hour before I needed to log on for work. With a huff, I headed to my room and gathered up a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and clean undergarments before heading out of my room and towards the bathroom.
I turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as I began to peel off my sweaty workout clothes. It wasn't long before steam began filling the bathroom and I stepped into the shower, enjoying the way the hot water soothed my aching muscles. For a few moments I just stayed under the warm spray before I forced myself to wash up fast.
Once out of the shower and dressed, I headed back to the living room. Against the far wall between the two large windows was my oak desk; there was a herringbone pattern in the wood along the sides. A potted monstera plant sat atop it in a plain, pure white pot next to the dual computer monitors. I made my way over, pulling out the large, black leather chair and switching the computer on before settling into my seat. I tossed my phone onto the desk, eyeing the time. I had a few minutes to log in before I'd be late. Plenty of time.
It took just a moment for my computer to start up and I quickly pulled up the programs for work, clocking in and pulling up my work email. I frowned when I saw the handful of new emails I'd received since yesterday. With a sigh, I rose out of the chair and wandered toward the kitchen. I flipped on the espresso machine, letting it warm up as I reached up to the cabinet above and pulled out a mug.
Absently I set to work, grinding the appropriate amount of fresh beans into the portafilter before tamping the grounds down. Then I slid the portafilter onto the machine, set my mug under the portafilter and let the machine pour out two shots of fresh espresso. The comforting aroma filled the air immediately as I headed back to the living room. I grabbed the television remote from my coffee table, flipping the TV onto the news as my morning latte brewed. There was a fluff piece currently on, discussing a new local business that had opened up today. Turning up the volume, I made my way back to the kitchen where the shot had finished pouring. I grabbed oat milk from my fridge before heading to the espresso machine and pulling the frothing pitcher from atop the machine. I poured in a few ounces of milk before placing the container back in the fridge, and then I set to work frothing the milk before cleaning off the machine.
With my morning caffeine dose in hand, I made my way back to my computer chair and got comfortable. I pulled up the first email and began to skim through it, quickly typing up a response to a co-worker before moving on to the next email.
"Breaking news on last night's murder in Hell's Kitchen," the reporter on the television said. "The woman responsible is now in police custody. Hope Shlottman is currently being investigated for two counts of murder of her own parents. The young athlete shot them both in an elevator last night, and despite video surveillance, she is claiming to not be responsible, saying a man told her to kill them."
I paused, my head turning to look at the news. There was a video of a young blonde woman being dragged out of an apartment building in handcuffs, blood covering the front of her. She was crying, her face red and splotchy, snot running down her nose. She kept repeating over and over "It wasn't me! He told me to do it!"
A cold chill ran down my spine and I stared at the screen for a while. The hairs on my arms rose, a prickling feeling running along my skin. Paranoid, I glanced around my apartment, eyes darting around at every object. I was alone though; the soft morning light filtering in through the large windows illuminated the room around me.
It was just me here.
Coincidence, that's all, I told myself as I turned off the television and focused on my work.
It's quite difficult to walk three blocks carrying six full bags of groceries by myself. I had spent the past week putting off doing any real grocery shopping, only grabbing a few things for quick meals if I didn't just order take out. After work, I'd gone for another long run to try to ease my nerves before showering and discovering my fridge still wasn't stocked with anything more than some cheese, a carton of eggs that I'd nearly finished, some condiments, and a half empty bottle of orange juice. My carton of oat milk had also looked dangerously low. I ordered takeout from the Thai restaurant around the corner–vegetable panang curry with a Thai tea, something I'd ordered there three times now in the week since I'd moved in–before relenting and deciding I needed to get some groceries.
Now I found myself struggling to navigate into the elevator, three large and full grocery bags in each hand. I pushed the button for the sixth floor and willed the doors to hurry up and close. The plastic bags were threatening to cut off the circulation to my hands at this point.
Almost there, almost there.
I huffed a relieved sigh when the elevator reached the sixth floor, the doors opening slower than I would've liked. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator though, I paused. At the end of the hall was the blonde lawyer I'd met this morning–Foggy, if I recalled correctly–and a pretty young blonde woman in a dress. They were banging against Matt's door and laughing loudly. It didn't take me long to realize they were drunk. Squaring my shoulders, knowing there was no way to avoid the incoming interaction, I continued on towards my apartment.
"Come on Matt!" Foggy shouted, slamming his hand against the door.
The young woman shushed Foggy, resting a hand lightly against his shoulder. Foggy reached out a hand in return to her as he stepped back from the door.
"You try," Foggy slurred to the woman. "Maybe he'll listen to the pretty girl." He leaned towards her and attempted to whisper, "Pretend I'm not here."
My brow quirked as I neared the pair. He had just been banging on the door, how was she to pretend he wasn't here?
The young blonde turned, drunkenly agreeing before facing Matt's door.
"Matt," the young woman called out, her voice cracking a little at the pitch. "It's Karen," she continued, voice slurring, "and I'm very, very sorry about this. If I were you, I would not come to this door." She paused, glancing at Foggy and giggling before continuing. "But I think I also drank the eel."
Clearly forgetting the part about wanting to pretend he wasn't present, Foggy began shouting again beside the woman known as Karen.
"And we are now filled with mighty eel strength," Foggy shouted, pounding on the door again as Karen broke into giggles. "Matt! Come on! We're staying out until the sunrise!"
Suddenly Karen spotted me in the hall and let out a gasp, a hand flying up to cover the big, sheepish smile on her face.
"Oh, no," Karen muttered.
Foggy glanced over his shoulder and spotted me. It took his brain a moment to make the connection before his eyes lit up and he pointed a finger roughly at me.
"Olivia!" he exclaimed.
My eyes widened as I neared my door. Clearly uncaring of the bags in my hands, Foggy stepped across the hall towards me and roughly clapped me on the shoulder.
"Do you know if Matt is home?" he asked me.
A breathy laugh left my lips as I glanced at the door they'd been yelling at for probably a few minutes now.
"I mean, he's blind and not deaf right?" I quipped. "I'm pretty sure he'd have answered by now if he was home."
Karen dropped into another fit of giggles from her place against Matt's door. "She has a point," she said.
Foggy's eyes dropped down to the bags in my hand and an overexaggerated look of surprise flew across his face.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you carrying all of those!" he said, quickly scrambling to take a few bags from my hands and ignoring the dumbfounded expression on my face.
"Foggy, you shouldn't just–" Karen began, but she began to laugh at his overeagerness and didn't finish her thought.
"Let me help you bring these in," Foggy said. "It's the neighborly thing to do."
My lip tugged upwards at his words, a hint of a smile gracing my lips. "But you're not my neighbor," I pointed out.
Foggy only sloppily waved a hand at my words. "Potato piñata" he answered simply.
I glanced over at Karen who had taken a few steps closer. They seemed harmless enough, and they were pretty drunk. And it did feel nice to not be carrying six bags.
"Alright, fine," I relented as I turned and fished my keys from my pocket. "I appreciate the gesture."
I unlocked my apartment and waved my hand at the doorway, allowing the pair to enter first. I followed in behind them, closing the door after. I tossed my keys on the console table as usual before slipping out of my running shoes. Then I made my way into the kitchen where Foggy had already placed the bags he'd taken from me on the counter. He was pulling items out and curiously scanning them as Karen leant against the breakfast bar, her chin resting on one of her hands. When I entered the room, her eyes met mine and she stood tall, holding her hand out towards me.
"I'm Karen," she introduced herself.
I placed the bags in one hand on the counter in order to shake her offered hand.
"Olivia," I told her.
"They mentioned you this morning," Karen said, eyeing me curiously.
My brows furrowed in confusion as I placed the rest of my bags on the counter. I glanced up at her with a slight frown.
"Who mentioned me?" I asked.
"Foggy and Matt," she replied.
My eyes turned slowly towards Foggy, who was eyeing a head of cauliflower in extreme interest. His cheeks were pink and I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or embarrassment. Slowly my gaze traveled back to Karen who was grinning. I leant against the breakfast bar, mimicking Karen's relaxed posture.
"And what'd they say about me?" I asked curiously.
She leaned in as she spoke, a smile on her face. "Apparently Matt thinks you're sweet. And pretty."
I felt my palms sweat at her words and absently wiped them against my jeans. Internally, my brain told me that information wasn't important. I didn't do relationships. I'd only been in a relationship once and it didn't end well. But my racing heart and the blush in my cheeks didn't appear to care. I cleared my throat and tried to make a joke instead.
"He's barely met me and also–he can't see what I look like," I pointed out.
"I told you this morning," Foggy said, catching my eye across the counter. "It's his super power."
I rolled my eyes and shrugged before pushing off of the counter and beginning to put away the groceries in my kitchen.
"He said he'd been trying to find a chance to bump into you in the hall for days now," Karen continued.
My hand momentarily paused on the fridge door before I opened it and knelt down, unloading some fruit into the fruit drawer.
"He said he'd…overheard you screaming a few times at night," Karen added, her voice a little softer. "He'd wanted to check on you but…didn't want to make you uncomfortable."
I swallowed hard. "Sounds like he's paying too much attention to my apartment," I mused.
Foggy appeared beside me, cauliflower in hand. He held it out to me and I took it, placing it in the appropriate drawer before he handed me more vegetables.
"I told you," Foggy said again. "He always knows when there's a pretty girl. And usually he's a sucker for the ones with questionable morals," he told me, and I felt my stomach twist, "but maybe he's got a soft spot for damsels in distress."
I snorted at his comment, glancing up from my position on the floor in front of the fridge at him with raised brows.
"I am certainly not a damsel in distress," I told him.
"Well," Foggy said, his tone already taking on a note of disagreement, "you are a young woman." He waved his hand at me as if to prove his point. "And he says he's heard you screaming a few times in the middle of the night–"
"I get nightmares," I cut in defensively.
Foggy raised his hands at my words. "I'm just saying, you sounded in distress. Ergo–damsel in distress."
I let out a grunt before getting off of the floor and closing the fridge door before grabbing more items out of the grocery bags and putting them away in the pantry cabinet.
"Unfortunately for him," I said, trying to sound disinterested, "I don't do relationships. Or one night stands. Especially not with…guys like him."
"What's that mean?" Foggy asked curiously.
I closed the cabinet door and glanced at him and Karen. They were eyeing me curiously now.
"Flirts," I said simply.
A sheepish look crossed Foggy's face at the word.
"Matt is pretty popular with the ladies," Foggy admitted slowly. "Or so he says."
"Yeah, not my type," I said flatly as I put away the rest of the groceries and began clearing the bags.
"You want to come out with us?" Karen suddenly shot out.
I turned, meeting her gaze with a raised brow.
"It's just, I don't feel like being alone in my apartment right now," Karen spewed quickly. "And we were planning to stay out until the sun rose. And Matt said you just moved to the city this past week, so I'm guessing you don't know anyone here yet. So," she paused, catching her breath before asking again, "would you like to come out with us?"
I bit my lip and glanced between a hopeful looking Foggy and Karen's expectant eyes. It was true, I didn't know anyone in the city. Friends would be nice, it was something I usually didn't have. But I also wasn't great at any relationships–the lack of experience from growing up in a lab made sure of that.
But…it was something I'd always wanted. A normal life. Friends. Maybe a relationship…someday. And I'd been antsy here all week, unable to really settle. If I stayed in, I'd just go to sleep soon. Probably wake up from another nightmare covered in sweat and spiraling mentally. Or I could go out with these two seemingly friendly individuals.
"Sure," I answered slowly.
Foggy pumped his fist in the air and Karen let out an excited gasp.
"Really?" she asked quickly.
I shrugged. "Sure, why not. You're right, I don't know anyone here. Might be nice to make some friends."
"Yes!" Foggy exclaimed. "Let's go!"