the house that heaven built + open, joiner

[B. DELORIA]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Butch hadn't heard of The Pitt either, or any of these groups; it was kind of a given, since he'd been living literally underground for all his life. He was still adjusting. Everything was freaky, all right? The sky, all the kinds of land, the open space, the abundance of people- when he thought about it too much, it was overwhelming. So he tried not to think about it, which was harder without Val around to call him a dunce and answer any questions he had. He didn't like to go down that road, but he was starting to wonder if maybe he wouldn't see Val again for a good long while. They'd had an awful spat -though he couldn't remember the details- and they split up, and Butch didn't even know if Val had forgiven him yet. If he hadn't, it was no wonder he hadn't found Butch yet- he didn't want to. One more train he wasn't interested in following. What ifs were less important than what was happening in the here and now, especially when the here and now had him as a slave to Nowheresville.

Honestly, it was kinda crazy stupid how many people wound up here. It was a desert.

Yet here they had one more shmuck who'd gone right past the doorstep. That didn't bode well. Butch didn't need a demonstration to assume The Pitt didn't take kindly to people who crossed the border. He was a slave, though, so he should just let them do what they will. No skin off Butch's nose, right? Ugh.

"You're in The Pitt, pal. Nowheresville. You cruisin' for a bruisin', or what? Can't just walk in like that."