The crayons get a bit of a peculiar expression from Wolfwood as he walks by, as does the construction paper.
The hippie gets an equally strange expression. "Expecting some preschoolers this week?" He sounded amused and didn't seem too put off to the idea, since he grabbed a cup of coffee, a sheet of paper and a few crayons.
"Y'know, I'm not a professional. I take ideas and run with 'em. Maybe we get some kind like, fire wizard or whatever, turns these things into brilliant sculpture. Who knows? Hi." He grins. "Miniver Cheevy. Welcome to Life Support."
Nick took a seat, "I'd actually like to see that. I can... fold origami?" He chuckled, holding out his hand to shake, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood, ex-priest."
Oh, it is the other one greeting people this week.
Teja walks up and nods to Miniver. He's used to turning up for those weekly meetings, getting tea, talking to one or two attendant and then going away without any unseemly soul-baring, now.
Of course he has the axe -- Teja never goes anywhere without it, just as he will always wear armour, except when working in the forge, or in his bath or bed.
"This place is as interesting as it was," he says. "I was told of actual descendants of my people that still come here. It is good to know."
Momiji, needless to say, bounds into a seat, quickly procuring a piece of paper and a handful of the colorful, wax things. He looks somewhat ruffled, with a bandage on his left cheek, gadding about the Bar in pajamas - someone spent the evening relatively unplanned, it seems.
But, for now, there are crayons. And those're even better than snacks!
"Mm, I spent the night, last night. I didn't really mean to, and I came in late...so I only had pajamas."
He's woefully oblivious of the big band-aid covering most of his left cheek, and it's only after he turns back to his paper for a minute, tracing lines in a periwinkle blue, that he realizes that this, rather than his attire, might be the matter at hand.
"Uhm. And just sort of...messing around, back home."
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The hippie gets an equally strange expression. "Expecting some preschoolers this week?" He sounded amused and didn't seem too put off to the idea, since he grabbed a cup of coffee, a sheet of paper and a few crayons.
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Teja walks up and nods to Miniver. He's used to turning up for those weekly meetings, getting tea, talking to one or two attendant and then going away without any unseemly soul-baring, now.
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"This place is as interesting as it was," he says. "I was told of actual descendants of my people that still come here. It is good to know."
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Momiji, needless to say, bounds into a seat, quickly procuring a piece of paper and a handful of the colorful, wax things. He looks somewhat ruffled, with a bandage on his left cheek, gadding about the Bar in pajamas - someone spent the evening relatively unplanned, it seems.
But, for now, there are crayons. And those're even better than snacks!
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He's woefully oblivious of the big band-aid covering most of his left cheek, and it's only after he turns back to his paper for a minute, tracing lines in a periwinkle blue, that he realizes that this, rather than his attire, might be the matter at hand.
"Uhm. And just sort of...messing around, back home."
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"Elaborate."
This is an order.
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He's still in scrubs, eating a pasty, and grabbing a handful of snacks. This constitutes his dinner.
He then stops and coughs... it's possible he grabbed a crayon.
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Imediate question. If the answer is no, Guppy is getting tied up.
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"Eight hours last night, two at half four this afternoon."
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"Hello Miniver."
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