~ start 81799b50-adf5-444f-9900-d4c081757a85
if is_quest_accepted
	Emma: *She looks up from her mortar, hands still working.* [#end]
		The diner. Northwest, location (10,14). If the grill's hot, be polite. If it isn't, be careful.
else
	Emma: *Emma sits in the shade of her awning, grinding something pale into powder. She nods you toward a stool without stopping her hands.*
		Three people came off the road this week telling me the same story. I want you to hear it before you decide I've been in the sun too long.
	Emma: A diner. Lights on, grill going, out where nothing should be standing.
		They walk in half-dead, and a cook asks what they want. Not what he's got on hand - what they want. And he brings it out exactly right.
		They eat, they sleep in a booth, they wake up on gravel with no diner in sight.
	- Three people told you this?
		Emma: Word for word, near enough. Different roads, different nights. None of them knew each other.
			*She taps the pestle clean against the bowl's rim.*
			Truckers told this story before the war. Same stretch of country, even. My grandmother said the road feeds the ones it means to keep.
	- You believe them?
		Emma: I believe they ate. You can't fake the look of someone who's had a real meal. I've fed too many people who haven't.
			What I don't know is who's cooking, and why now, and why only for us.
	Emma: One of them marked where he woke up. It's south of here.
		Go and look. If there's a kind soul out there feeding my people, I want to thank them.
		And if it's something else wearing a kind soul's apron, I want to know that more.
	Emma: [#quest_info=7c770fe9-e8c7-453a-886f-b9fc5a8cb616]
	if is_quest_accepted:
		Emma: [quest: accepted] [#end]
			Take water. Whatever's out there, don't count on it feeding you too.
			May your footsteps be light!
	else:
		Emma: [quest: declined] [#end]
			*She returns to the mortar.*
			Then we'll let the road keep its secrets a while longer.
=> END

~ start 5bad5108-3b1c-4b1b-a1da-db5dc11a7d98
if is_quest_accepted and are_quest_requirements_met
	Narrator: *The diner is here. Or it was, once, a long time before anyone woke up on this gravel. Sun-bleached shell, roof sagged in over the kitchen, a pole out front holding a sign too faded to read.*
		*No lights. No grill smell. By the look of the place, nothing's been cooked here since the war.*
	Narrator: *But something's been eating.* [#complete_quest]
		*Inkbloats. A dozen of them, maybe more, dragging themselves between the booths and over the counter, swollen fat and slow. They've stained the floor black in trails.*
		*Whatever the travelers found here, the bloats found it after.*
	- They're gorged on something
		Narrator: [#load_quest=7ea6e34b-6ada-40cc-99a1-743d74da865e]
else
	Narrator: *A ruin like a hundred others. If it has something for you, it's not offering yet.* [#end]
=> END