"Mr. Ronan. I didn't expect to see you again."
Mr Ronan's stood at the front desk with his hair long and knotted. His teeth looked like rotten fruit, and his eyes were red and raw. Standing in the lobby of MISS-STORY AR Games, his dishevelled, haunted appearance gave the receptionist the same feeling he got whenever he went home to his grotty apartment in Region 47; that even the exterminator wouldn't solve anything.
"I'll always return." His eyes stared past the receptionist, past the wall, to something only he could see. A slight smile graced his lips. "This is where I belong."
"Well then, what can I do for you?"
The young receptionist was a little worried. Mr Ronan didn't need to come back; he'd completed every game they offered.
"I'd like to play Captured in Transit please."
"Again, sir? You've been through every possible storyline, every possible weapon. You've explored..."
"I know what I've done. I played it. Just give me the pass and set it up for the beginning again."
The receptionist was flustered, but entered the commands anyway. He took a card from the rack beside him and slid it over the polished white desk. "There you are, Mr Ronan. Fifth booth on the left"
Mr Ronan nodded almost imperceptibly. He turned to head to the booths.
"Oh, um, Mr Ronan?" the receptionist called after him. "I just wondered, for the feedback forms. My boss loves hearing from the feedback forms. Since you're such a valued customer, our very best..."
You were a valued customer until you looked like you'd been left to rot outside for a month.
"...I just wondered, why do you want to play it again?"
Mr Ronan stopped and sighed. The card in his fingers trembled by his side. A single tear dropped and splattered on the floor. "She's so real."
"Excuse me, Mr Ronan? Can you repeat that?"
"Magistrate Captain Faye Lionne. She's so real. More real than real. I just want to... to hold her again. One more time."
He staggered through the doors. The receptionist frowned. Strange thing to say, but that's what he'd report. The boss would love it.
When they found Mr Ronan dead of a heart attack a few hours later, the receptionist remembered those words. 'One last time.'
"Tragic way to go," the boss said. "Clutching on to an imaginary woman. Still; at least we know she's lifelike." He turned the receptionist away, who couldn't stop staring at the hanging tongue and bulging eyes that were strangely relaxed and calm. "Come on, m'boy. Go tell Vivie up in Character Design what he said. She'll be delighted with such a glowing review."