The Right Path

You decide to go down the right path. Cula dashes ahead, leaving you to stumble after them. You pass by some sort of electronics room, full of screens and chairs, and a room containing a tall, formal table and several chairs. Eventually, you get to a brightly-lit room, full of counters and boxy machines like the ones in Cula's room. There are various screens made to look like windows along the walls, and two people in the center, yelling at each other.

One of them is Cula, of course, and they're perched on the shoulders of a green-scaled, tailed fellow that seems awfully unhappy to have someone perching on him. He's trying to knock them off, but ends up just flailing his stumpy arms around. It's rather funny, but a bit mean. After a few seconds, Cula falls off, and you ask the lizard-man what's going on as Cula untangles their limbs from the chair they knocked into.

"Ah, so you're new here? My name's Don. I live around here, and I was trying to finish decorating my cake when this clown rolled in." The lizard man huffs, and waves to some sort of colorful food product on the counter. It looked tasty. "I'm guessing you just woke up today, and you ran into Cula. I guess you can have some of this. Us going from knowing only one person each to two is cause to celebrate, I think. And going from zero to two sure isn't bad."

As Don moves to the cake, Cula jumps in joy, and grabs a metal can out of one of the larger machines. They open the top of it, and you see some sweet-smelling liquid inside. They jam their needle-beak into the opening and start drinking it, and it seems to be pretty tasty, judging from their reaction. You look back to Don to see him cut the cake into 4 sections, and he gives you two on a small plate. The three of you move over to the table, and start eating.

You aren't familiar with food, but you can tell this was made with care. It's sweet, far sweeter than you're used to, but you can't help but gobble up your serving in a matter of minutes. Don is slower, likely due to the fact that he's eating with a fork and not his hands, but he doesn't seem to mind. Cula sips their drink and talks on, and you occasinally ask questions or make comments, and you feel a warm glow in your chest. It's unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

It is getting late though...

Head back