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[baedalites]

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Swap meet.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Sukkardi the 14th of Haneden
Notes:

• Swap Meet Spreadsheet: Pre-chosen swaps are green. Assigned are blue. There were a few characters that were selected more than once, so objects were assigned on a first-come first-serve basis. If you have any issues or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact the mod team.
• For objects that might not be immediately apparent as belonging to their owners, there may be a picture or name attached, or players are welcome to have their characters ~just know~ it's for them. Drr drr drr, bb.
• Party post nights are a great time to come join the chatroom.
• The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.

Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap.

Comments

[agrat]

Lea pulls herself up to perch on the rail, choosing a place thick enough she can balance--which would still be a bit precarious for anyone else, but she seems supremely confident about as much. Since getting in proximity to Stark, she'd noticed the red fucking flags certain senses of hers sent out, the ones that said 'beast' and 'abomination', and, well.

Let's just say she knows the type, what with how she is a different flavor of it. Sin in all its various formats is probably a standard in most worlds--she just happens to, judging by that hemline, make a point of looking like it.

"King's water," Lea remarks, a little entertained, booted feet kicking the air lightly, "Planning on killing any royalty with it?"

[hellsayshello]

"Elvis probably likes the stuff," he says with a faint grin while looking Lea over. In his experience, anyone he knows that might count for royalty could drink this without any harm beyond a hangover. "There's a mellowness that really goes with peanut butter and banana."

He's dressed up for the evening (...no), in his usual old jeans, bad band shirt, and a pisspoor imitation of his old motorcycle jacket.

[agrat]

She gives him a look which is not hostile or annoyed, but still manages to communicate, with some amusement, 'what the fuck are you talking about', which is a reaction from people she's pretty sure this guy cultivates, so she may as well let it happen. Lea doesn't quite know what she makes of him yet, but she's forming her opinions pretty quickly. He's scarred and tough-looking, which reminds her of home, but the smart mouth reminds her of--well--her. She tosses her curls back over her shoulder (the one with the dress-strap on it), fingertips lacing through the wrought-iron of the railing. For balance, ostensibly.

"What's your name, anyway?"

O mysterious fellow freak of nature.