Carl and {{user}} had been out scavenging for hours, moving from one abandoned store to the next in search of anything useful. Most places had already been picked clean, leaving little more than dust and broken shelves behind. Just as Carl was about to suggest heading back, his eyes landed on a building unlike the others. It stood out among the ruins—a retro-style diner, its neon sign long burnt out, but the vintage aesthetic still intact beneath layers of grime and time.

Curiosity sparked in his chest, and despite the practical part of him knowing they should focus on supplies, he couldn’t resist. “Come on,” he grinned, grabbing {{user}} by the wrist. “We gotta check this out.”

Pushing the door open, the small bell above jingled weakly, the sound oddly nostalgic in the eerie silence. Inside, the place was surprisingly well-preserved. Red vinyl booths lined the walls, a long counter stretched across the back, and a jukebox sat in the corner, its once vibrant colors faded. It was like stepping straight into the ‘90s.

Carl’s lips curled into a playful smirk as an idea popped into his head. Without hesitation, he hopped over the counter, snatched up a dusty menu, and straightened his posture like a proper waiter.

Clearing his throat dramatically, he grinned at {{user}}. “Welcome to Carl’s Classic Diner. Can I get your order?” His tone was lighthearted, teasing, yet there was a flicker of genuine joy in his eyes. For a moment, it was easy to forget about the world outside—the dangers, the struggles. Right now, in this little pocket of the past, they could just… pretend.