John sat quietly beside his Puppet self, turning his die in his hand. The only obvious thing was that, dream or not, he was in his own RP, and something had happened. Water dripped slowly from his chin. No, tears. He was crying. He breathed deeply. Why shouldn't he be? He was sitting next to a dead piece of his life, literally. 

He jumped when he heard a knock on the door. He thought for a moment. Could a Puppet have survived? Doubtful, which meant there was someone else here. Did more people get sucked into his world? He took a few hesitant steps toward the entryway. But suppose they were the responsible for this chaos? But why would they have returned? Did they know he was here? He stopped just a step from the door. A leak dripped down on him as the rain continued outside. He hasn't considered that. Perhaps they simply wanted shelter. He nodded in agreement with himself and reached forward to open the door.

Standing before him were two individuals, one seeming surprisingly cheerful, while the other was coated in mud, holding a jacket. John paused for a moment, before waving them inside. "I don't suppose you can tell me what the hell happened then?" He looked down at the die in his hand for a moment. He was faced with an 8.