#jet.

Isolated even in its own time, the Diner was one of those clever ‘last stop for __ miles’ kind of places. Somewhere you ended up, rather than somewhere you aimed to be. Positioned strategically between bigger destinations, so anyone on an overnight drive might find themselves pulling over just to get out and stretch their legs, grab some coffee… but wouldn’t you know it? Why not just spend the night. And of course the diner served breakfast in the mornings, before you set out again. That means now, after the end of all things, it’s truly isolated. Most of what connected it to the world, including the road, is all long gone, worn away by the bombs or the fires or who knows.

The boys found it by chance, in a time when they had nothing else. Almost like destiny, they went stumbling on something built just the way they needed it. The way people had needed it in the past, even if their circumstances were a bit less dire than being ejected from the only protection to be found in the desert— They quickly tore through the diner’s old stores. Mostly dusty old utensils, many of them broken and/or tarnished. Some ancient canned goods they were just desperate enough to risk. The food in them was unrecognizable, but it didn’t kill any of them, so. It worked out.

Those first few nights they kept themselves to the diner's floor, piling together in the booths, cradling Bitty close to their sides, trying their best to look after her. Eventually, they spread out a little. Cleaned out the old motel rooms - some of the mattresses were even salvageable, though terribly sandy. They rid the dark corner of rats and bugs, found ways to let in the light during the day, air out the rooms. (Lucky for them, there’s not a lot of moisture where the diner is situated, so mold and mildew growth was pretty much null. The benefits of a dry environment.)

The carpet is ancient and ugly, the walls cracked, plaster falling away in places, and for anyone thinking on it no, the bathrooms don’t have functional plumbing, but it’s shelter. Shelter, and space for them to spread out. Create little hiding holes of their own, rooms to collect treasures in, if they so choose.

As connected properties, the diner and motel share a sort of parking lot courtyard. The only way in is through the front of the motel’s drive, with a sturdy, sharp ended fence discouraging anyone from trying to climb in through the back. The boys have taken to partially blocking the entrance with a concrete barrier. In a pinch, the AM (as well as Kobra’s bike) can scrape around it to get in and out fast, but it keeps the entrance too small for larger, bulkier BLI (or other) vehicles. Jet meanwhile keeps his jeep parked near the side entrance of the diner, for a different quick escape route that can’t be boxed in.

A back door through the kitchen of the diner means that one can go from the diner to the motel rooms without ever setting foot around the outside of the building; the crew all know this, obviously, but it’s less readily shown to others.

The diner itself has become a sort of communal space. There’s a small stage set into its back wall, outfitted with an array of gathered equipment that largely belongs to Sunny. She’s got an interest in music, and has spent several years of her young life writing and practicing, improving her musical skill, and is set in some ways to become one of the desert’s next iconic performers (like Mad Gear, or Solstice.) If she could get up the confidence to take up a stage of her own.

The booths are more often just seats these days, the tables places to collect and spread out any projects, though now and again they all still pile up together in the largest booth, the one near the front that wraps around, to all sleep together.

On the rare occasion that they bring someone to the Diner, whether for consulting, or some other reason, visitors are generally confined to the diner itself, and the main floor at that. This is not a hard rule it’s just a general approach to the situation — this is their home, and of the spaces available the diner is the least personal to any of them. The most trafficked. It’s still like bringing someone into your living room, a bit awkward and exposing sometimes, but far less of a compromising position than letting someone see, for instance,

The Motel. Since settling in and spreaing out, the old motel has transformed into what are more or less their bedrooms. The office (top right of the following image) remains fairly neutral ground, given that it serves them no real purpose now, but the claimed rooms are decidedly private spaces.

There are eight rooms in total, with five of them, of course, being claimed as these bedrooms, while another two have been allocated to other purposes.

Close to the diner, the first room remains empty as a buffer of sorts, a sapcer from the rest of the desert. The second is Party's chosen landing pad, then Ghoul's.

Party's room is largely undecorated because idk what to put in there. Squid @/hvndredzones did Ghoul's!

Across the way, Kobra's room is the farthest back, Sunny is -of course- bundled up in the middle, with Jet on the other side, then the office serves as the buffer.

I decorated all of these because apparently no amount of "I'm not writing Jet" is. actually going to stop me from having opinons and. y'know. writing him. so.

One of the motel rooms, close to the back corner (on the right here, with the cot in it), serves as a sort of guest room. It’s not exceptionally well outfitted, more of a desperate measures sort of situation, but it’s better than being stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no shelter for the night. It doesn’t see a lot of use. They’re not a lighthouse, not a charitable bunch exactly, just a few boy doing their best and trying their hardest to keep the family they’ve put together for themselves safe and as comfortable as could be said to be possible in the apocalypse.