Random emerges from the deep dark crevasse that he calls a room. He looks at the group at the bakery that just so happens to be near the apartment. "I wonder how long they've been standing there," Random says, brushing a layer of dust off Scautty's shoulder. In his hand a moldy pasty decays slowly. The rest of group seem to be just as dead, or something as Scautty, so Random attempts to shake them awake one by one screaming, "Wake up," in their ears as curios onlookers give him strange glances.