Your adrenaline begins to wear off, now that you're inside and safe from the beasts outside (at least for the moment). Your stomach rumbles, and you realize that you're actually a bit hungry. "Let's get a table, Becky," you say, "We might as well sit in here for a while; it seems safe enough, and I'm kinda hungry." Becky doesn't really say much, simply nodding, still checking her cell phone in a vain attempt to get a signal.
"So..do we just seat ourselves?" You ask the bartender, a husky blonde woman who still looks rather upset at the world.
"Yeah, any table will do, girls, seat yourselves. Lorraine will be with you in a few minutes," she says, sounding very distracted.
You and Becky find a table in the back corner of the room, near the woman with the gypsylike attire. It's not really that you want to be closer to her, per se, rather you want to keep an eye on the whole building, and this provides a good vantage point. You also notice something you hadn't before: all around the room are rather grotesque woodcuttings of wolves attacking people. There are also several paintings depicting what would appear to be werewolves.
And even more ominously, up near the roof of one of the walls is a gleaming stained glass window of the full moon. "Becky," you whisper, "This place is creepy as hell...I'm starting to think that we shouldn't be here."
Becky glares at you, "What the hell, Jen? First you want to be here, now you don't? Shit, I didn't even really want to go to Pleasure Island at all; it was all your idea for the most part. Look, you really want to leave, that's fine, that's your deal. But now that I have a chance to sit on my ass and not run around like a maniac, or some stupid animal being herded from place to place, I'm gonna do it. Let's just order our fucking food, maybe try and get a couple drinks, and then figure out what the fuck we're gonna do on this fucking island the rest of the night, okay?"