"Either there is something unusually pressing on your mind....or you are intentionally letting me win."

She was picking up her uncle's black stones from the Go board like a crow picking at seeds in a field. Her white ones were consuming the space between them, and she couldn't remember when that had last happened.

There's some spice to the young man today, Bones can tell - he's a bit snappy here and there, a bit sassy even, despite Chekov's usually so bright and sun-like nature. It is so unusual, in fact, that it makes McCoy pause in mid-movement; A set of brows knit, hazel eyes blink a few times, then flick up to the other's face.

"---A bit feisty today, aren't we, Mr. Chekov?", he asks, now cocking one of those previously mentioned brows, head tilting as Leonard holds the tricorder still, right next to the Ensign's face. It beeps a few times, as it always does, nothing for him to be concerned about.

"Want to elaborate on why that is?"

{¤} Vivian is caught off guard by the question, far more used to people pointing out other things about her. The more time went on, the more people found to criticize about her—like how her father calls her outfits "funeral clothes" or how her father complains over her draining the house of color when she's upset despite knowing it's something she can't control. Having someone look at her in awe for being a bird is leagues better than any of that, even if it seems odd.

If Vivian had to take a guess, she'd assume this guy has been isolated for a while. She hadn't focused on learning divination when her magic was still at its strongest and wouldn't be able to use any psychic abilities even if she wanted to, so her guess is about as good as anyone else's.

Not wanting to be rude to the stranger, Vivian smiles and nods in agreement.

"Yes, I am a bird. A duck, to be specific." Vivian tilts her head, her brows furrowing in concern. "Are you alright, sir? I know this probably feels a little disorienting..." {¤}

---

'A duck! Of course. A duck...' He chirps. 'A fellow bird! I'm a crow, I think?' Its pretty obvious he's also a duck; clearly a misinformed duck.

Is he alright? No. He's on edge constantly and his memory is patchy and somehow everyone or everything he meets makes him feel unnerved and wrong. But-

'Of course, I'm always fine.' He lies through his beak.

Eyes are blown wide. Brown hairs on end. This is what a man, not long out of the Nightmare Realm looks like. Jittery and cautious. Ready fight or flee at any given moment.   The dimension he finds himself within, however, seems to be a little safer... or maybe not? Everywhere he looks he can see those menacing demonic eyes and hear that haunting laugh. All the inhabitants here, seem to mutate before his very eyes, but in reality stay the same.

Ryat stepped closer to the counter of the old diner, looking to the coffee cup in his hands before he ordered one of his own. It was one of few things humans partook in that he really liked anymore. That and well ....drugs. That was about it.

"Why the long face stranger?" He questioned, looking to Sam, his dark hair falling in his face before he brushed it back. "Most people only come here off the highway....but none of them usually stay so long. You lost?" He would take this easy, not wanting to give himself away just yet.