[ It's dark, and muggy, and most of all, it smells like death in here— not bad, per se, but musty, like dried bones and crumbling paper.

Gus wrinkles his nose, swipes his hand against molded walls. Regrets it, and wipes his palm on his ludicrously expensive slacks. ]

Can't really think of one person that would want to be here, let alone more... [ it really is pretty depressing in here, like traversing through a dungeon. ] If the place does go deeper, it'll sink into the sewer system. A lot of complicated systems run underground, so who knows what kind of traps we'll have to deal with if we keep going down...