Phil Daines

It was hard to find too many civilized places anymore. At least, it was hard to find anywhere that wasn't a run down shack filled with people who smelled like sweat and rain, with an unhealthy dose of rotten food mixed in. So when Phil found a dinky town that looked as if it could withstand almost any kind of attack or weather, he was grateful for a chance to sit down in the town's bar for a couple of drinks. Since rations were already low, Phil was stuck ordering a simple beer, not that there were many different options for that either. Still, it was booze, and he couldn't exactly complain about the flavor. (Rancid swine briefly crossed his mind.)

At first, he ignored the random conversations around him. Nothing piqued his interest until he heard 'mystical fairy-land' from a drunken tool sitting just a couple of seats away from him. With a smirk, Phil shifted his body to face the man, waving a hand to get his attention. The man looked up and promptly rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' stranger," he griped, loudly. "Comin' into my town and making an ass of themselves. I'm sick of it."

"You talking about Utopia?" Phil asked, leaning forward. He rested his chin in his hand and grinned serenely. "Because I can tell you right now, it's pretty real."

"What, you been there?" Not even the man's drunkenness could hide his curiosity.

"Well, no. But I know it's there. In fact, that's my next stop." Phil paused long enough to take a drink of his beer, making a face as soon as he swallowed. "I hear the booze there is better than this shit, anyhow." He looked down pointedly at his beer. "I mean, hell. Why would anyone keep drinking this shit if there's actual wine in Paradise?"

"Never had wine," the drunk man mumbled, looking down at his own beer. "This town's not rich enough. People keep leaving anyway. Hard to make money or get many supplies."

"Shame." Phil took another, slightly bigger, sip. "I don't plan on staying here. Good luck with your income though. At least the buildings here are sturdy." He shifted back, now leading his body against the counter. "I hear people there are rich, too. More money than anyone knows what to do with. I gotta get me some of that. I could buy myself a better vehicle that doesn't need constant repairs."

"Your making shit up now," the man growled. "Who the fuck are you to come here and make stories up? I'm drunk, not stupid."

"I already said it's real."

"Where's your proof?" The man lurched to his feet, as if he was planning to attack Phil. He merely laughed as the man sat back down a second later.

"I don't have any. But I promise it's real. I mean, everyone's gotta settle down somewhere, right? Could be heaven, could be an entire country, who knows? But it does exist, and I am going, as soon as I've had a rest here, first." He stared down the man, who finally turned away and grumbled, probably complaining to his friends about how stupid Phil had to be.

Bored with the conversation, Phil turned back to force himself to finish his beer. He'd need to find a place to eat, too, along with a bed to sleep in. It was unlikely anyone else would engage him in conversation about this mythical city. Not that he cared.