A smaller male with a pastel pink jumper peaks from behind the door shivering as he clutches a laptop to his chest with several stickers covering the lid.
“H…he…llo? If you are going to rob me… i would prefer you just take my stuff so i can… go home… my nice warm bed beats a… likely h…haunted death trap any day…”
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Another figure appeared, looking as though they had just stepped off a runway, their shining blonde hair and oddly revealing clothing unmistakable. They burst into the room laughing, bowing and spinning dramatically before falling backwards and draping themselves over a table or couch (Kit really couldn’t tell), a hand thrown dramatically across their forehead as if winded by their entrance.
In a loud, haughty voice, the figure yelled,
“Haha! One has arrived to… whatever this place is! I forgot already…”
Idly twirling a strand of hair around their finger, they shrugged before speaking up again, a glint of amusement in their eyes.
"Well… no matter! The star of the show is here! Who could even imagine trying to pay attention with the one and only standing right here?! Sorry, sorry, I know. Hold the applause."
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To arrive without provisions to take lodging inside a run down hotel and to contend with officers of the law is much the direct opposite of auspicious, yet I must appear with such zeal to the opportunity I have been provided, of which I am certainly most grateful for, even if it the compelling I was given being only for difficult affairs. What I have not yet known and will soon discover will be turbulent, I must press onward and manage myself.
I push open the doors with imagined zest and peer inside.
“And cela est de la merde…”
I begin to ruminate to myself. The characters in here are remarkable, yet not startling. A pair of seemingly charming men, of which I am certain are never to be underestimated, a snivelly small man in an off colour jumper, a man that looks far too frail and far too desolate for his age, a monstrosity of a woman who certainly isn’t to be crossed in physical combat, and a man who…
“Il est conne.”
I mutter, trying to find a way around the putrid man with the ego of a thousand suns, locating a wall which I am certain I shall not touch, and determining to attempt to find some serenity in my mind whilst I wait for anything relevant to appear.
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Lexi seems to have noticed none of the new people entering the room, still focused on Seinfeld playing on the TV screen.
Lexi turns towards the mousish person watching seinfeld. “I remember watching this finale live. God did people hate it. I always felt like I was more of a kramer, but all my friends say I’m more of a George. What about you?”
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“It’s called manners, if one invited you to their place of residence would you show up toting a rifle?”
They then turn to Lexi
“I wish you would be quiet and allow me to do a headcount briefly”
9
Jorn can reasonably tell due to his own experiences that the mousy person doesn’t need to use a cane yet they do so anyways
Jorn ponders.
Jorn speaks up, not looking at anyone in particular. “I simply must know. Why Seinfeld.”
The mousy person speaks up
“It’s the greatest sitcom of all time, need there be a greater reason?”
“Parks and Rec.” There is a disapproving tone in his voice.
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“A good pick, still Seinfeld edges it out by a hairs width in my view. Maybe nostalgia is playing tricks on mine mind!” They chuckle briefly to themselves “By the by, Philanthropist you were the hardest person here to track. Congratulations on that feat.”
“From a risk assessment perspective, bringing me on is a bold move. I want to know more about you to ascertain that you aren’t an idiot.” He speaks in a matter of fact voice.
“Same thing I said to Spider. Yet he insisted. For what reason not even God knows. That brat’s brain runs differently than all of ours. Wouldn’t be shocked if he was some alien or something akin to it.”
They rummage around their pocket and bring out a smoking pipe and begin prepping it
Jorn rests his head on his knuckle. “And this Spider…is he meeting us with tonight?”
“What’s your endgame?”
Bill watched the exchange with interest. He remained quiet, presumably because pinatas hadn’t been mentioned yet.
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As the mousy person finishes prepping their pipe they answer
“They’ll be present in some shape or form. Whether it be their second, some audio feed, or in person they will show up.”
They strike up a match and light the tobacco in the pipe
“Endgame? At least the interests that I represent in this venture is cold hard cash, Spider’s however? Got no clue there.”
"Does this “Spider” have a birthday party coming up? Bill asked. “I have an absolutely magnificent spider pinata left over from Halloween. Barely used, too.”