And Quackity will lead the way! Back towards where they came from--Las Nevadas is actually closer to spawn than L'Manberg is, but it's in the opposite direction. They pass a large castle-like outpost with the image of a duck at the top of it, which has a convenient bridge connecting to the other coast, and then, on the other coast: Las Nevadas.

There's a toll booth, but it's not manned; they breeze past it. They pass by the fountains to enter a smaller red and white building.

"We've got--we've got a restaurant over here. Name pending, it should be hiring and opening soon, you can see inside--" Inside seems nice. Very white. "Wilbur--the other Wilbur, my Wilbur, we really need to give you guys distinguishing nicknames--is, uh, trying to compete with it. You'll probably see that later, it's, uh, not as nice as ours."

Inside does seem nice. Very white indeed. It's a pretty place in general, very intentionally designed, everything very coordinated; Quackity clearly had very specific aesthetic direction for it. It is also not even the size of a Capitol city block, and entirely silent except the fountains and the two of them. 

"Wait, the other Wilbur is—" alive— "around?" 

"...Yeah. Dream revived him, uh, about three months ago?" Quackity paces once, a neat circle, unsure what else to say, making sure to keep Wilbur on the side of his good eye just in case, and then leaves the restaurant. "And now he's, you know, around again. Causing problems. You might see Tommy or Ranboo around here sometimes, they're with him." Or the other Quackity. 

Reviving people being a thing people can, apparently... do. Something Dream can, apparently, do. Why can Dream do that. Can anyone else do that.

All of those questions can go on the back burner for later, or for when he's found someone lower-stakes to probe shamelessly for answers, or both. (It hasn't escaped him that he's being kept carefully to Quackity's right.) 

"Got it. Uh, Ranboo and Tommy being..." 

Wait, no, he remembers the name Tommy. Tubbo's friend. His Quackity's mentioned him and he was in the top-eight interviews for the 70th. He doesn't know much about the kid but he could probably pick him out of a lineup if it came down to it. Ah, well, he's already asked. 

That earns him a shocked look before Quackity schools it back to normal. Well, okay, Wilbur not knowing Ranboo isn't that surprising, but--it's still weird to be reminded that Wilbur is not, actually, the Wilbur he knows.

"...My Wilbur, Tommy's his-- best friend? Little brother? Sidekick? I don't know what they've got going on but they've been attached at the hip for longer than I've known either of them. Uh, annoying blonde teenager. Almost as tall as you and about as British. We've got a bit of history, I'd say, but less than he has with Wilbur. Also attached to Tubbo, if you know Tubbo. Uh, Ranboo's--about eight feet tall, half-enderman, black-and-white color scheme, can't miss him."

That's— weird. It's weird to imagine himself surrounded by different people, weird to imagine himself attached at the hip with someone he in fact hardly knows. And dear fucking god is it weird to imagine himself with a little brother, or a best friend, or a sidekick, or— any of those things.

At least it seems to be weird for Quackity too. As little as he can imagine caring that much about the kid his Quackity's tribute volunteered for, it's even harder to imagine himself not knowing Techno, so— it tracks, maybe. 

"I am familiar with Tubbo. I am not familiar with enderman or british but eight feet tall does sound hard to miss." 

"British, like, you know--your accent?"

"No, my accent's Capitol." And this is an entirely neutral fact about him which surely nobody involved cares about in any way. Trust. 

Shrug. "Sure, whatever, man. Here we call it a British accent. Or English. Sometimes posh if I'm making fun of you." (He says 'posh' in a slightly higher-pitched overexaggerated accent.)

"Well, Kwackiteeee—" and here his voice, too, goes higher-pitched— "it'd be terrible if you did that. Can't imagine how I'd abide it." 

!!!!!!!

"Wilba! Wilba Suit!"

!!!!!!!! yourself! 

"Kwackiteeeeeeeeee—" extended to the point of being annoying. Except, whoops, he can't extend it that long, because he also can't stop giggling about it.

Quackity is not immune. He too dissolves into giggles. When he recovers: "Good to know that some things are universal, huh." He's still smiling. It's not his salesman's smile, not even a little bit.

"Apparently so." It's a good smile. Sometimes you can really see how a million people fell in love with Quackity. 

(And sometimes, Quackity gets what his other self is doing and why. It doesn't make him hate him any less.)

He keeps walking. Reminds himself of this week's lesson. Create no emotional attachments. He has to be a good example for Slime, if nothing else. 

"Next is the, uh, the chapel!" It's a little outdoors bridge, not much of anything. "If you have a significant other, you can--" He notices the ring on Wilbur's finger, curses himself. "--Oh, I didn't notice, you're already married! Must be a lucky--lady? Gentleman? Fish?" It's not him; the other Quackity, for all his faults, isn't wearing a ring. (Quackity is. Two of them. He tries not to think about it, which is hard, when he's in the chapel that he built for the three of them, talking to Wilbur about marriage.) "Well, hey, if you ever get divorced, you know where to find it. No judgement in Las Nevadas."

The salesman smile is back.

"It's true, I'm very lucky," he says. Which isn't really what Quackity said but maybe if Wilbur's emphatic enough Quackity will miss that he didn't quite agree to what it sounded like he did. "If, uh, if it ever comes up, I do indeed know where to go. It's lovely." Smile. 

"Thank you." Luckily for Wilbur, Quackity is busy with suddenly wanting to go anywhere else and talk about anything else. They can keep walking. The next thing that comes up is the strip club; Quackity waves towards the walls, which loudly advertise THESE VERY HOT SEXY SUPERMODELS WANT TO MEET YOU. "Don't listen to the billboards, it's usually pretty quiet. Sometimes Sam or--someone else--will play around." Wilbur can have a wink on 'someone else', because it is true--after Sam and whoever Sam happens to be with that day, he's probably the one who uses the strip club the most. Not a good idea to be winking at Wilbur about, but hey, Las Nevadas isn't about good ideas. ...It occurs to him again that Wilbur's married. Oh well, it's not like Wilbur ever stopped flirting when Quackity was in a relationship.

If Wilbur is thinking about his spouse he sure isn't showing it!

He looks at Quackity, then at the walls, then at Quackity again, and says "So I should be listening to the billboards, is what I'm hearing." He winks back for good measure. Just in case he was too subtle. 

Quackity laughs. Good to know he didn't misread Wilbur on that. "That's Las Nevadas for you, baby. Come by after dark sometime, maybe I'll give you a different sort of tour."

"Never let it be said you are not a generous host." 

"You flatter me!" Having opened the doors to show a dimly lit and empty room with a bar and a couple stripper poles, they can go to the second-to-last stop in the tour: the space needle. There's a lot of tables at the bottom, set with flowers.

There's an elevator up to the top; at the top, there's a few smaller tables and a nice view.

"Come inside, come check it out! It's nice up here." He leans against the railing, causal. Keeps a very careful eye on Wilbur, on how close Wilbur gets to the edge, on whether it looks like he's considering jumping.

Wilbur isn't thinking about jumping at all. He's too busy standing a few feet from the railing, staring out at the sky with the open hunger of a man who hasn't seen a horizon in almost a decade. 

"...you must get some gorgeous sunrises from here," is what he manages to say about it. 

Hey, that works for Quackity.

"We do, we do. Sunsets, too. How's this, you can come up whenever you want, just give me a buzz first so you don't surprise me while I'm already up here, yeah?"

"That's— very kind. Thank you." 

"Any time, man." It's strategic, he tells himself. He is trying to get this Wilbur on his side before his Wilbur can. Offering things, being friendly, being kind--it's the smart thing to do. And that's all it can ever be. He has to remember that. It can feel nice, as long as he doesn't let that distract him from the point.

They can stay and watch the sky for as long as Wilbur wants. Quackity pulls out his lighter and cigarettes, offers one to Wilbur.