A pair of men holding hands and a glass jug of popcorn sit cross-legged on a wooden table, staring intently at a mysterious figure standing on the table. The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the scene. The air is thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the words "Randit Wait" are barely heard in the background. A faint figure watches as a group of intrepid men and women hurry past them, the only sound that seems almost deafening.