You fill Willis in on the details of your current errand as you make your way down to the lower floor, before the ominous surgical doors that fill you with a strange, sick sense of subconscious familiarity...
FERN:
...Your mom's not gonna be waiting to gut me in here, is she?
...Your mom's not gonna be waiting to gut me in here, is she?
WILLIS:
She won't notice us, she'll be in her special doors. There's kind of a lot of doors.
She won't notice us, she'll be in her special doors. There's kind of a lot of doors.
FERN:
And these "snippers" I hear so much about? I think I've seen them before...
And these "snippers" I hear so much about? I think I've seen them before...
WILLIS:
Don't worry, Fern, they're nice.
They're just not real smart.
Don't worry, Fern, they're nice.
They're just not real smart.
FERN:
...Aren't they...doctors?...
...Aren't they...doctors?...
WILLIS:
Well yeah. They're smart doctors. They're just not smart people.
Well yeah. They're smart doctors. They're just not smart people.
FERN:
Erm, okay.
Here goes nothing...
Erm, okay.
Here goes nothing...
You pull the card out again and swipe it through the scanner on the wall...
