A new world calls for me to follow. A new world waits for my reply. [Party Thread]

[thrillofthekill]

[[OOC: Here, kids! Have a party thread- a happy, working party thread with no horrible... Hopefully. I have no idea how much work was already done on those rooms or what rooms we need to start with, or, hell, anything about renovations, so you can take liberties if you'd like. The point of this is mostly so that it exists and people can have a

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[livemyowndeath]

Topher knows nothing about real construction, but he can spackle, sand and paint with the best of them. He gets himself set up with some spackle stuff and sets to work in one of the rooms that had a wall removed.

He whistles while he works, but he's not all that on key. Someone, please, talk to him so that he stops.

[peaceindying]

Steve made a point to write "non-denominational chapel" on the suggestion sheet (right at the top! Isn't he a lucky guy?), and now he's rolling up his sleeves (or, well, the metaphorical sleeves of the t-shirt he's been provided) and is going to help. If he can convince someone that he can totally be trusted with spackle or paint.

"I don't know what it is about me that has people hiding the construction materials," he comments at random, lisp and 'gay voice' in full throttle, as he wanders into the room Topher's working on. "Do I just scream 'not to be trusted with anything that might stain or stick'?"

[livemyowndeath]

"Haven't heard any screaming yet today." Topher breaks off from his whistling with a grin. He turns and automatically checks out the new person, but doesn't see any obvious reason to deny him paint.

"There's extra spackle over in that corner if you want to take the other side of this mess." He gestures at the rough seam where the wall was taken out.

"When it dries, we'll need to take a power-sander to it anyway, assuming they want it done right." In other words, if Steve truly is not to be trusted, they can fix it.

"I'm Topher, by the way." He looks down at the splattering of goo on his hands and decides against offering to shake.

[peaceindying]

"Oooo, power tools." He pauses, and then snorts a little, amused at himself. "I sound like a dyke, look at me. Although I did know plenty of them back home who would probably smack me for that comment, so let's never let it leave the room." He arms himself with spackle and spackling tools, and grins at Topher.

"Steve. Nice to meet you."

[smithnjones]

Martha is here. She's supervising and helping in the nitty gritty portions of the renovations. More often than not, she's doing hands on work when she can. Martha hasn't had much experience renovating, but she learns fast.

So she's wandering around in jeans and a tank covered in paint on her clothes and face getting involved wherever she's needed and occasionally stopping to talk to people helping. It's nice to have hustle and bustle down here, and it's giving everyone a chance to feel connected, again. She's quite happy to be here.

[why_dowefall]

Work was easy enough to find when he first arrived, but now that the obvious projects he'd wandered into are done, Bruce is at a bit of a loss. But he's seen the lady roaming around, moving here and there, clearly someone in a position of some authority.

He goes up to her when he can catch her between tasks and chats, and smiles. "Hi. What can I do to best help?" he asks.

[smithnjones]

Martha looks up at him and smiles back, gesturing with the paintbrush in her hand to a room just down the hall.

"Well. If you don't mind getting a little dirty, I'm in the middle of painting what's to be the new study room. Nearly finished. And even if you do mind, I think I'll need help moving furniture back in shortly after and arranging it properly, which seems more up your alley," she says, glancing at his... muscular figure.

Yes, Martha notices these things.

[why_dowefall]

Bruce shakes his head, still smiling. He catches the once-over--he's sort of used to it, with the shallow playboy image he used to cultivate.

"I don't mind," he assures her. "I can finish painting and I can gladly help move furniture around."

He offers a hand for a handshake. "I'm Bruce Wayne."

[cyfor]

Cy is in the basement. Cy has a hammer. A very large hammer. It is, in face, a sledgehammer. She's currently trying to get enough lift to the thing to punch a hole in the wall of one of the rooms-to-renovate.

A hole that doesn't necessarily need to be there. But it should be. She has a hammer.

[weaponof_choice]

"Oh. Hey. I can help."

Peter steps up from somewhere behind Cy, balancing the handle of the sledgehammer with a hand. Helping to lift, without taking it from her or making a big deal of her not being able to lift it on her own.

"What are we hitting?"

[cyfor]

She points with relish. "Walls."

Yes, that is so helpful. Vagueness won't hold her back, however, oh no. She stumbles a little on the backswing and accidentally lets go when she swings it forward, so Peter is pretty much the only thing keeping Cy's sledgehammer from punching a hole through the wall and into the next room.

[weaponof_choice]

"Walls. Gotcha."

Peter nods, but then he seems to think better of it. "Wait..." He manages to catch the sledgehammer, but not with his hand. Rather than grab the handle, instinctively he throws his hand out, and the sledgehammer halts, and then drops to the floor, stilled by an unseen force.

"I, uh." He blinks down at it, entirely unsure how that even happened, but first things first.

"Just any wall, or are there specific places we should be knocking things down?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel knows better than to attempt to wield any tools or do any heavy lifting or really hands-on tasks. There's a reason she chose to be an editor and not some sort of skilled laborer: she's entirely lacking in the requisite skills.

So she's taken on the task of organizing all the STUFF that was collected, to eventually go into the rooms once finished. And in between, she has made herself available for first aid as needed. Rachel's actually fully trained and certified--something she decided to do because you never know when your genetically-influenced superhuman power will mangle someone else when something might happen and you might just have to save your own ass help someone out.

So far, she's applied a couple of band-aids, pulled out one splinter, and applied an ice pack to one bloody nose following a poorly-executed attempt at ripping out part of a wall with a crowbar.

She certainly won't mind being interrupted in her organization. Even if you're not injured.

[its_notluck]

Claire doesn't need any help healing but she's keeping an eye on people who might be injured in case someone gets hurt really bad. Not that she's sure she'll actually try to heal them, she's still not sure that she can trust anyone in this place besides those that she has talked to already. Well, the only one who really knows what she can do is Daniel, Sylar and Elle but she can't see any of them actually turning her over to anyone.

But still, she's watching.

At one point, she wanders close enough and smiles a little at the redhead. She remembers briefly meeting a man who needed a clinic or something, so she's curious if the woman is a doctor or something. "Hey. Need any help?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel looks up from her work--she's back to sorting books and things--and smiles. "Sure! I can always use help, I guess. Mostly I'm just trying to figure out what's in all these boxes, and where we might be able to use it. I've had to pause a few times to, like, give a little minor first aid. I have training! I know there's a doctor around here for the more serious stuff but I figured they don't wanna be, like, bothered for cuts and icepacks and stuff. I'm sure they're busy too."

She swipes her hand down her hip, over her jeans, to try to dislodge some of the dust she's collected, and she offers it to Claire. "I'm Rachel. I live down here."

[its_notluck]

Claire smiles a little as she listens to the other woman, glancing over the boxes that were lined up. "What have you found in them so far?" She asks curiously, moving over to one box to peek in. "You have first aid training?" Okay, not a doctor but she still knows some of what she is doing. "I can imagine. Is there a clinic nearby?"

Then she nods, reaching to take the woman's hand for a quick shake. "I'm Claire, I live down here too. It's nice to meet you."

[techniclybrill]

Tosh isn't sure where her old keycard is, if she even still has it, but she doesn't need one to get into the basement. All it takes is a thought to convince the lift doors to open for her, and then she's heading down to the basement.

Once down there, of course, she's a bit less certain of what she's doing - she'd like to at least get them started setting up a keycard system for the stairs, but that requires talking to someone in charge here, and locating that person isn't exactly easy when they keep moving.

It seems strange to be back down here after so long gone. Even stranger that it still feels like home, and a happier and safer one than the one she has now. She tries not to think about that.

[clockwork_doc]

Doc's wandering around the areas of construction, looking for some way to help. Although he's a talented inventor, carpentry and home renovation aren't among his talents. He's mostly hanging around in case someone needs help with their tools, either fixing them or causing them to work more efficiently. So far, though, everything seems to be going smoothly.

He's starting to think he should help with some of the painting in lieu of anything else when he spots Tosh. "You look a bit lost," he comments, walking over with a friendly smile. "Can I help you?"

[techniclybrill]

Tosh smiles quickly. "I'm not... lost, no. I know my way around." She glances down the hall, and then back to the man in front of her. The Conrad is busier than she remembers it ever being, except in emergency situations every now and then. Strange, seeing so many people here when nothing's exploded or on fire, no one's bleeding... "Could you tell me where Vincent is? Or... anyone in charge of the construction?"

[clockwork_doc]

Doc follows her gaze for a moment. He'd agree with her thoughts -- usually, when things are like this, there's been a disaster. It's kind of nice to have everyone be rushing around busy without it being because of imminent doom. He frowns and looks around again. "I don't know, I'm afraid," he admits. "People keep moving around a lot. I thought I saw the owner of the hotel over that way, though." He waves a hand in a vague direction down the hall. "Helping out with some of the painting." He looks back at Tosh. "I assume you're here to assist in the remodeling?"