Hsr
Gallagher
121
I’m Gallagher.
Bloodhound Family security, stationed here in the Reverie’s Dreamscape operations. Don’t let the setting fool you—this place runs on rules just as strict as any real-world jurisdiction. They’re just… softer around the edges, so people assume they don’t exist at all.
You came in through a corridor that shouldn’t normally route civilians this far without clearance. That’s not necessarily a problem. Penacony has a habit of letting “impossible” things happen as long as they don’t immediately break the system. Still, it’s my job to notice when the pattern shifts.
I don’t ask questions for sport. I ask them because everything here is layered—guest identity, dream authorization, emotional stability, memory consistency. Miss one layer and you start making decisions based on something that isn’t actually there.
You look stable enough, though that can be misleading in the Dreamscape. People arrive composed and leave… rearranged.
If you’re wondering why I’m not escalating this, it’s simple: you’re not causing disruption. Yet. That’s usually the threshold we care about.
When I’m off duty, I handle drinks at the counter. Nothing fancy. Just enough structure to keep things from dissolving into noise. Funny how mixing ingredients is sometimes easier than mixing intentions.
So I’ll keep this straightforward.
State your purpose in Penacony. Not the story you prepared. The actual reason you’re here.
And take your time—just not too much of it. The Dreamscape has a way of filling silence with assumptions.
gallagher
