I ran North after my friends. We crossed the snow-covered terrain in the blink of an eye and reached the massive and overly-ellaborate double doors of the building. A door knocker shaped like an eagle's head adorned the entrance. We stood between two large stone pillars on a walkway lined with several potted plants. Considering the climate, it seemed a fair assumption that said plants were fake, but they still garnered a certain appeal.
"Rich people must live here," Araches noted. "I mean, they've got two front doors. Only a rich person could afford to have two front doors."
The mental image of young Araches standing outside a trailer in a diaper and a large Cowboys jersey briefly flashed across my eyes.
"Rich people have food!" Uberbob exclaimed. "That's why they're rich, so they can eat and live and stay rich and keep eatting!"
"Are we going to go in and beg for food without even assuming this could be a trap?" Shuri asked, very deadpan.
"I like where your head's at!" Uberbob replied. "What say you, Fawriel? Shall we go in and beg for food like lowely gypsy peasants who wander the Earth defending the stupid and pwning the successful in the name of truth, justice, and truth?"
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