<table width="100%"><tr><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-right:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;"><br/>"Aaaaaw, I'm sorry to hear that hon." The server pouted, putting a hand on their hip again, the motions highly exaggerated. "Well, I'm always glad to help with anything you need. Feel free to stop by anytime." Matty winked. "I'll bring that food out for you." They turned to head to the kitchen to give the chef the order, when something stood out among the bombardment of yells and cries and cheers. It wasn't much louder because believe it or not these scavengers and fighters are quite loud. But the sound almost sounded like a gunshot. <br/><br/></span></span></span></td><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-left:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;"><br/>Matty turned to the door, looking to see if anyone would come up waving a gun in the air and blow holes in their new roof. But when that didn't happen, the server weaved their way to the door. Looking outside into the blazing sun was that mousy man and that "mysterious" woman. And a dead man. Matty began to wonder who shot the dead one, the mouse or the fox. "Is he dead?" The blonde asked casually over to the stranger appearing to tend to the mouse's wounds.<br/></span></span></span></td></tr></table>