Subject: "Well that's just great."
Author:
Posted on: 2015-11-01 02:25:00 UTC
The Aviator looked disgruntled. "There go my plans to ever drink at Rudi's again. Ever. Thanks for the heads-up."
Subject: "Well that's just great."
Author:
Posted on: 2015-11-01 02:25:00 UTC
The Aviator looked disgruntled. "There go my plans to ever drink at Rudi's again. Ever. Thanks for the heads-up."
The Guardsman chewed furiously on his mouthful of doughnut, trying to clear his mouth enough for him to speak. "Oh! fffank you," he said though a mouthful of pastry. "Don't mind ifff I do." He rummaged around a pouch hanging his belt and withdrew a small tin mug. He wiped the inside with the hem of his tunic and held it out towards Dawn's teapot. "Fffanks again."
-on the table.
"You're welcome," she said, still grinning. "So, hi! I'm Dawn McKenna, DMS, but right now I'm General Iroh of the White Lotus...uh, wait, maybe he didn't keep that title? I'm not sure. Anyway! I'm Iroh, the Dragon of the West, but normally I'm Dawn, proud owner of a flamethrower. And this is a teapot," she added, waving a hand at it. "So. Who're you, when you're not a Roman legionary?"
...the doughnut/tea slush and ran his tongue across his teeth before replying. "Oh, my name's Emiranlanoamar. Pleased to meet you, McKenna. Thanks again for the tea: it was delicious." He smiled at her. "That's a pretty epic costume you got there, too. Didja make it yourself? That's some pretty high-quality stitching right there."
"I may've had some help," Dawn admitted. "I have a friend who likes to sew and is very good at it. I helped with some of it, though! And I'm the one who borrowed the teapot, too. And, uh, the tea as well. My boyfriend made that. But! I had the idea to dress up as Iroh, and I found the wig myself, so there's that. I'll tell Des you liked his tea, though." She cleared her throat. "Are there any donuts left, by the way? I like donuts. I'd rather like to eat some, too--and Iroh's big on food and enjoying things like food, so it's even in character! And--what was your name again? Emiranlan...lanar? Could you repeat that, maybe? I think I'm missing a piece or two of it. And speaking of names, Dawn is fine, unless you're from somewhere that objects to using first names or finds it rude or whatever else, in which case it's fine, surnames are good too. I rather like this one, even."
...and offered it to Dawn. "Righty-o, miss. 'Dawn' it is. Also, my full name is 'Emiranlanoamar'-- that's spelled with the right circle crossed up to the midpoint and the three inflection dots-- but you can call me 'Emiran' or 'Guardsman' -- everyone does." He fished a doughnut out of the box and crammed it into his mouth. "Fo you were faying that you are 'Iroh'? Nefer heard of 'im. Which 'verfe?"
We'll be bringing this whole thing to a close on Saturday evening! See you all then; I hope you've enjoyed the RP!
-Alleb
Yet another extension to the RP! ^_^ The entire thing is going so well, I don't want to cut it off. Plus, I want to give everyone a little more time with the mystery. Since the "one day extension" didn't work last time, I'll leave this one a little looser; I'll post ahead of time when the RP feels like it's drawing to its natural conclusion. Does that sound alright to everyone? I apologize for flip-flopping on this; I've never run an RP before. But hey, I know what not to do next time!
-Alleb
Originally today would have been the last day, but it's going very well so we're extending it by another day. Have fun, guys! ^_^
-Alleb
The out-of-universe deadline is when the RP ends.
-Alleb
((Thanks for hosting this. It was really fun!))
But other than that, this was really fun! I hope we can do it again next year!
By the way, what's the prize for the costume contest?
Perhaps a bit of a cop-out. ^_^ It was fun to write, though. I'm glad you enjoyed the rest! Chris gets a massive sack of candy.
-Alleb
Zeb stopped short and turned, careful to not let the tea spill out of the cups he'd been holding. "Oh. Yeah. We did that. Thanks." He gave a weak grin. "Ask away!"
"I promise they won't be too nosy. Anyway, if you had to attack the Aviator--say, if that was the only way to keep her from blowing up something important--what move would you use? Also, does she have any food allergies?"
"Um, probably Thunder Wave, followed by Thunder Fang? And I knew her last two bodies were allergic to Bleeprin, but I don't know about this one. Maybe?" He thought for a moment. "Oh, I know Time Lords are allergic to aspirin! Does that help?"
"One last question before I go bother one of the other suspects: Do you think Michael was too obvious in trying to make Chase look guilty? This isn't exactly on-topic, it just seemed odd that only Chase got the potential smoking gun."
Yeesh. Sounds like Mom's mystery novels rubbed off on me after all, he thought wryly.
"Excuse me, can I reach over you for a minute?" He grabbed one of the crackers that the dramatic girl had taken. "Thanks. By the way, I'm Miguel and I'm participating in the investigation. Could I talk to Chase Miller for a moment?"
"First question: Had you heard of the Aviator before she went into Rose Potter and/or...that other one?" He successfully resisted the urge to spit on the ground.
"Is not Rose Potter a name?" he asked, and then paused. "Is it, perchance, a building? A school? I have not heard of it. As to the Aviator, I have never heard tell of her before today, nor have I laid eyes upon her."
"We're from Canada," Flora added helpfully. "Right now, at least. We're, like, from pretty far away originally."
Show-off, he thought. He talks like the Prince of Verona.
"Next question: If somebody offered you a reward to kill a total stranger, would you do it?"
A rather gaudy beach ball that was floating in the air dipped down before bouncing up again. It prodded a brown-aquamarine maniple field at the man it was trying to converse with without much success. “That would be me,” it said.
The man’s posture suggested discomfort; his expression was hidden behind the white Keffiyeh he wore wrapped around his head. He stuck his hands inside the pockets of his brown longcoat. “You have it in you,” he said, his voice muffled. “Or, rather, I’d suspect you if this was real.”
"My name's Miguel. I'm participating in the investigation, and I need to ask him some questions about the Aviator." Hopefully Amris will be more helpful than Chase, he thought.
“Backrow,” he offered as an explanation.
“I’m Amris,” the beach ball said. It poked Chris with a maniple-field. “What do you want?”
"First question: Is it possible for robots like you to do damage without leaving a mark on the target?"
((OOC: Um, Miguel's doing the investigating, not Chris. Chris is in the costume party.))
“Define ‘leaving a mark’,” it said. “Rather: define the observing party.”
“OK, can I go now?” the man asked.
((OOC: Derp.))
"Also, I'm talking about a visible mark, such as a scar or entry wound."
Weirdest. Robot. Ever.
Backrow made no move to go. He did put his hand in a pocket, adjusting his keffiyeh with the other.
Something grey pulsated inside the beach ball. “Again: define the observing party,” it said. “‘Visible’ means three very different things for you, me and Backrow over there.” A grey-tinged field pointed at the man in the coat, who visibly tensed.
"Next question: What's your general opinion of Time Lords?"
“As a race? They are somewhat curious, what with their regeneration process,” it said. “The victim? “Aviator”? I have not met her.”
Backrow, meanwhile, calmed down and crossed his hands, leaning slightly on one foot as he observed Miguel and Amris.
"OK, last question: Do those fields you've been poking people with have the ability to injure sentient beings?"
Miguel was reasonably sure, by this point, that Zeb wasn't the killer. Chase hadn't even identified himself, so he considered that a dead end. Amris was certainly vexing, but that wasn't enough to peg him (it?) as the murderer. Besides, he'd flat-out said he hadn't met the Aviator. So...what the heck's going on here? Miguel wondered.
“I can cut molecular bonds with them,” it supplied helpfully. “Would you like me to demonstrate? Bring me an animal and I will show you.” It sounded almost cheerful.
Miguel returned to the general area of the stage. Unless Chase decided to talk to him, he could now say that Amris was the killer.
But where do I report my findings? he wondered.
"That's right," Zaddella said. "Think middle schoolers, excited after watching Attack of the Clones."
"I'm actually from the Weft and Warp continuum," Mally said. "It's very different from Star Wars." She smiled, trying to be charming. "How did you start working here? Is it usually this...over the top? I think there's a man wearing a giant robot costume over there. And was someone talking to that sunflower? That's a pretty interesting costume."
------
((Weft and Warp is the title of my NaNoWriMo novel. It's partially inspired by the Wheel of Time. Mally Morrigan is the main character.))
He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Our chordophone, Chi-won, can be like that too, I guess. Uh, I'm Nick." He held out a hand to the newcomer, hoping Ami wouldn't bring up Dirk again. It was hard enough to answer questions like that when his uncle asked, let alone a stranger.
-Alleb
"Woah!" he said, bending down to look more closely at the replica. "Awesome! I can't do anything like that, at least, not without the band. Neat! Can you go inside?"
((-Alleb))
"Nick," he said. "Nick Jacobs." He turned back to Ami, albeit very unwillingly. "I play... well, this." He reached into his pocket and drew out his ocarina. It seemed ridiculously tiny, even more so than normal. "It's kind of a joke instrument," he said with a grimace. "Not much use."
((-Alleb))
Nick blinked rapidly. No one knew what an ocarina was. No one. He'd been carrying this thing for two years, and not once had anyone recognized it. "That's... impossible."
((I'm having fun too! :D
-Alleb))
For the second time that night, someone commented on Gaspard's armour. Talking to the Aviator had somewhat drained him of energy-- Gaspard wondered if he could survive a few more hours at this pace.
"O-oh. Thanks. You two, er... you're also looking pretty good! Loving that Link costume," he said to Dirk, "and I believe that's ancient Egyptian royalty, right? Oh, very well done. S-say, you should join the costume contest. I'm sure you'll go far."
"It is; I'm Cleopatra. I hadn't thought about joining the contest-- say, perhaps you could try it with us!" Hasina said. "Your armor is the most impressive thing in this room. It's even better than the food!" With a grin, she popped a small appetizer into her mouth, chewing with relish.
"She's right," Dirk said slowly: he always did that, as if he were testing each word as he spoke it. "Did you make the suit yourself?"
((-Alleb))
"Oh, I d-don't know," he said. "Seems like an awful lot of attention for just one person. I don't t-think that, um, it would be right, really. I'm even starting to regret wearing this thing, too..."
Hasina smiled kindly. "But, if it means anything, I don't think you should regret wearing your costume. If nothing else, it has given Dirk and I something to aspire to next year!"
Dirk, who was already rubbing his chin in thought, nodded assent. "Quite the sight," he said.
((-Alleb))
Gaspard looked around for a few moments, trying to figure out how to proceed with the conversation like a normal, not-socially-anxious person.
"Um, er, so... what department are you two serving in? I-is it Floaters? It's always DoF nowadays..."
"Dirk and I are just visiting; our friend approached us about recruitment a little while ago, and suggested we attend this party. Just as a way to get to know the place. What department are you in?"
((-Alleb))
Hasina frowned, glancing around the party. It looked alright to her, but she was no expert in this. "If you do not like it here, why do you not... leave? Find a different job?"
((Heh, it's fine. I like fourth wall breakers, personally. They're a lot of fun.
-Alleb))
"...if I said I had a timeline loop to close?" replied Gaspard. "Also, my parents work here. It's nice to be able to see them every day without having to portal another dimension."
She cocked her head, jewelry jingling. "What do you mean by that?"
((Sorry for my long delay; lots of stuff happened IRL. I'll set about getting a new "final" ending date for the RP.
-Alleb))
This one was blond-haired and brilliantly blue-eyed, and looked a great deal like Chris Pine. He spotted the Guardsman almost instantly and walked over, grinning.
"Yo, Emi," he said, and clapped the Guardsman on the shoulder. "Ave, or whatever. How's it hangin'?"
"No," he choked. "Oh, heck no. Two questions: firstly, how recent? Secondly, is this a time travel event or not?"
"Relax, bro. I'm just having fun. Well, okay, someone dared me to do it, but it's fine. Really. And, uh, as for how recent..." He shrugged, and then made a face and tugged at his armor. "Look, it's been a couple weeks for me, but for you it's still a while off. Stop worrying. I'm gonna be fine."
"You're insane. I taught you about these situations! Now get out of here before you blow a hole in causality or something. Ri-- Arin is here. She can't see you like that! She'll go into conniptions! Shoo! Go! Amscray!" He made flappy go-away motions with his hands.
"Lighten up, Emi. I know what I'm doing, and I know not to talk to her. She's gonna be talking to that dude in the giant suit thing for a while, and then she'll be busy. All I have to do is stay out of her sight, which I'm doing, and seriously, everything's fine--oh, hey, is that Zeb? Cool costume." He grinned, then turned a wide-eyed look on the Guardsman. "Come on, Emiranlanoamar, aren't you happy to see me? Don't you want to hang out for a bit, find out what kind of awesomeness you'll be hanging out with in the future?"
"Look, I'm glad to know that you'll be alive at some point in the future, but there's gonna be heck to pay if she even smells you in the room. Think! You're thinking! That means you leave a psychic trace! Just-- hang on." The Guardsman reached into a side pouch on this belt and took out a walkie-talkie-like device. He activated it with a push of a button. "You remember the psi-blocker, right? Here, take it and pray that it works." He gave the legionnaire another look-over. "As for the smell, go and lather yourself in perfume or something, frat boy."
-device. "You know, this is exactly why I didn't go see future-you before I came here. You're all responsible and s**t. This is supposed to be fun. And I'm not gonna wear perfume, shut up." He pocketed the psi-blocker, then added quietly, "Uh--thanks. I kind of forgot about the smelling thi--hey! She could just think I was past me! If I just stay out of sight, especially with the psi-blocker, it'll be fine. She won't know it's future-me, or not-past-me, whatever. You worry too much." He tugged at his armor some more, then made an annoyed sound and started to pull it off. "Hate this costume, it itches..."
"She knows you! How can you pretend that this," he waved at the man, "is a 'past self'? She'll see right through your disguise! Ask yourself: is this worth the risk? Do you want to potentially reduce a friend to tears over a mere stunt? Where's Naya? Your Naya. Don't play dumb-- I see that bracelet in Khelish on your wrist. I won't hesitate to call for backup if I have to..."
The Reader jumped, and turned to look. "Wow. Uh. Aw, come on, how did you even know I was coming here?" He frowned. "Did Ave--the Aviator tell you? That one's got the brains of a lemming half the time, I swear. You look awesome, by the way."
"Every. Time." He reached for Naya's hand, twining their fingers together. "I can't even go to the past without him mangling my name! Why does he have to do that? I've never mangled his! I just call him Emi now, which is fine, he called me 'Xandria' for years--what's it gonna take to make him stop? Seriously! I'm a Time Lord, not a teenager in a Hawaiian shirt! It's degrading!"
"...I think that Emiran doesn't like being called 'Emi'. Just going off on a limb here," said Naya. "Also, that reminds me: on your next vacation day, we should go somewhere tropical. I was thinking Fiji. How does that sound?"
"-mangling my name entirely!" the Reader protested. "It isn't fair. At least I'm actually using part of his name. He should be happy I didn't pick up Kirk's nicknaming thing when it comes to him, he'd probably be--Wrenches, or Laser, or something." He grinned. "And yeah, tropical vacation? Love to. Do you mean Fiji on Earth, or Fiji the planet? Both are tropical, as far as I remember."
"It's a beautiful planet, you know. I'll have to use a disguise to fit in, but hey-- at least the food will be great. I'm not too keen on visiting the Whoniverse, sweetie: you know how danger lurks around every single corner. It's ridiculous, I tell you! Ridiculous!"
-ducked under Naya's veil to kiss her quickly before popping back out. "I guess it's pretty enough. And alright, we won't go back to the world that spawned mine for a vacation. I'll live with it." He busied himself with rearranging the fall of Naya's veil, grinning cheekily at her whenever their eyes met through it.
...and gently grabbed her husband's hands. "Oh, will you behave, Xan?" she said, grinning. "And I'm sorry for choosing the vacation destination this time: it's not like you chose the last three... I think it's time for me to step up my game a little. I can 'wow' you too."
The Reader grinned back, less cheekily this time, and kissed her knuckles. "And," he added, both cheekiness and smile fading into sincerity, "you 'wow' me all the time. You don't have to step up your game; you could keep your game as-is forever and I wouldn't care."
"You certainly know how to speak to the ladies," said Naya, smiling broadly behind her veil. "But can you dance?" She looked towards the dance floor, then at the Reader. "Come on, Xan. Let's rock this party and show everyone how it's done."
A lanky, hawk-nosed teenager sidled up to the hulking suit of mechanized armor. He was dressed in a rather underachieving impersonation of the Tenth Doctor, and his sonic screwdriver was decidedly amateur. "Where'd you get that costume?"
((-Alleb))
Gaspard looked up from his plate, searching for the voice's owner. "Oh! Uh, h-hello." He straightened up and faced the Aviator. In his armour, he towered over her. "Er, my suit, yes? It's, er, I got it from an Intel run. 'Acquired' it from a , um, a non-canon bunker. It's actual hardware, not a D.O.R.K.S. disguise. So it's, um, real. Not fake. Um, I mean, um... yeah."
Sensing that he reached a conversational daed end, he swallowed nervously and (very carefully) offered his free hand to the Aviator, balancing his plate of food in the other. "I'm Gaspard De Grasse. Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Your exploits are talked about all over HQ."
The Aviator looked more than a little disgruntled. "Yeah, so I've been told." She shook her head and accepted the outstretched hand; ensconced in the suit, it completely dwarfed her own. "Never mind that, though. You've got a fantastic costume; I'm surprised you haven't been mobbed yet."
"...not for the reasons you'd hoped?" The Aviator gave him a wry smile. "Wonder what that feels like. But never mind; we can forget the suit if you want." She waved a hand. "So. Gaspard, was it? Don't believe I've met you before. Where do you work?"
My life is boring, nobody wants to listen to me talk about that, thought Gaspard, but his mouth said: "Department of Intelligence, ma'am. Junior intelligence officer: write reports, file reports, go in the field once every six days. Nothing to write home about."
"Don't know if I'd be able to do it, though. Too used to being on the move." The Aviator peered at Gaspard. "And you don't have to call me ma'am, this ain't the military."
"...out of the t-two of us, you are the one with the post prestige in Headquarters. That s-sort of thing must be acknowledged. You know, like, er... um, respect, from a lower-echelon staff member towards a higher-up."
The Aviator leaned against the table and picked up a strange looking fruit that vaguely resembled a pomegranate, if pomegranates were supposed to be a violent shade of magenta. She broke it open and began picking out the seeds. "I f***ed up the two most important assignments of my career and caused a massive brouhaha after the second. I wouldn't say that's prestigious." The Aviator dropped several seeds into her mouth and chewed slowly, thinking. "I'd say the fact that you've managed to fly under the radar and not cause any trouble is a lot more commendable. Must be nice to have a quiet life."
The Aviator ignored Gaspard's stammering in favor of plucking out more seeds. "Must be nice to have a quiet life. Or at least one where not everyone knows every intimate detail of your life."
"Something the matter? You sound nervous."
((Dude, are you sure you didn't go rooting around in my head to create Gaspard? This is some scary stuff.))
"Oh, it's probably my anxiety acting up. No w-worries," said Gaspard while trying to put on a reassuring smile.
No. Don't smile. You look like a creep when you smile.
He let the smile fade. "But that's enough about me, eh? Er, um, what about you? Who are you dressed up as, ma'am?"
The Aviator looked down at herself. "Oh. Princess Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender. It was my partner's idea. Not exactly my first choice, but hey, whatever makes him happy, you know?"
The Aviator looked around, then pointed out the teenager who was dressed almost identically to her. "He only used the disguise generator to go to his default human form; neither of us like using the disguise generator to make the costume look better." The Aviator looked around. "Ooh, Victoria looks good tonight. Wonder if Zeb'll notice." She grinned.
"I have it on good authority that Zeb doesn't, er, um. Like girls, ma'am. As in, um. you know." He shuffled awkwardly, dragging a heavy boot across the ground. "Well, yep. Or so Madam's sources say."
"Meh, doesn't matter, does it? He's never shown any inclination either way, so what the hell do I know?" She paused and scowled. "This is the same Madam Tacitus reports to?"
"Er, I thought you knew. Tacitus is merely in the employ of Madam-- he's not a free agent. There are dozens like him all over the place, collecting and selling information. It's, er. Commonplace. And Madam isn't the only one doing it either-- Rudigore is also in the information trade."
The Aviator looked disgruntled. "There go my plans to ever drink at Rudi's again. Ever. Thanks for the heads-up."
"I guess?" Gaspard looked away. He had the feeling that he had ruined someone's day. "So, uh... read any good books lately?"
The Aviator checked her watch and sighed restlessly. "I'm a bit more anxious to see how tonight's episode of Doctor Who plays out, to be honest. What about you?"
Sorry; I didn't see this when I posted a reply! SeaTurtle, feel free to disregard mine.
-Alleb
Dressed as Trainer Red and holding a Petilil in his arms sheepishly walks in. He wants so socialize with the oterhs but is quite shy.
With a wince and a barely suppressed groan, Alleb laid her crooked hand on the tabletop. Thankfully, the debacle hadn't attracted too much notice, although Minty's still form was starting to draw stares.
"Will she be alright?" Alleb asked.
((-Alleb))
...Michael ducked out of the bar, straightening his cloak and helmet. "Thank goodness Alleb distracted her!" he thought as he fled towards the stage. "I'll make it up to her somehow."
-Alleb
((Aaron is dressed as Emiya Shirou, and Natasha is dressed as Archer, both from Fate/Stay Night.))
...and then did her best to adopt a pose that gave off an air of casual superiority and made the cape-like part around her waist hang dramatically. Aaron, who was rather uncomfortably aware that his general behavior probably qualified as in-character, just smiled at them.
"You're Will and VJ, right? Nat's mentioned you before," he said.
"Let me guess... Death from the Sandman comics?" Natasha remarked, lowering her voice to an appropriately masculine timbre. "And... someone from Doctor Who? Or is it just supposed to be vaguely Victorian?"
VJ beamed at them, before jumping over to Natasha and catching her in a hug. "Well, almost... Will's supposed to be Jack the Ripper. And I follow him everywhere he goes. Ain't that topical?"
"The funny thing is, this actually was my favourite outfit, back in the day." William nodded to politely to Aaron and Natasha, turning to the latter. "Want me to fix your voice, love? Temporarly, I promise."
William raised his eyebrow. "Well, mine was a demon but still took a form of a little girl. That's actually a pretty interestin story."
"Which I'm sure we'd all wanna hear but, if you excuse me, there's a plate of carbonara calling me." VJ let go of Natasha and directed her attention to the food table.
Hearing Natasha's question, William shrugged. "It would be better if I had a sample, otherwise it's gonna be improvisation. I only know him as the Undertaker but I don't think that's what you want."
"Yours was also a little girl? In my version, she was the daughter of a prostitute, trying to return the womb where she last felt safe, but you could say that in the end she became something like a demon." She shrugged. "But yeah, I can find you some clips online." She dug into a cleverly-hidden pocket and withdrew her phone. After finding the clip she wanted, she tossed it to him. "As you can probably guess, it's the guy I'm dressed as."
"Pity," she said, "I had a line ready to use and everything. Oh well." She grinned at Zeb. "Nephew, you look quite dressed up! Is there an occasion of which I am not aware?"
"Today is the day I regain my honor!" Zeb grinned and hugged Dawn again. "I'm afraid I won't be able to talk for long; I agreed to help the hosts with an event later this evening. But we can talk until then! How's your day been?"
She pulled away, then said, grinning, "Today I reconquered Ba Sing Se! And my tea shop! I'm sure you've noticed my teapot?" She gestured to it. "Actually," she added, "it's Des' teapot. It looks better, I've just got the electric type. I'm going to go around offering people tea! Isn't it neat? And my day's been fun! I get to pretend to be a firebender! I love costumes. And disguises, but *costumes*. Yours is great, by the way--pity I haven't seen an Avatar yet. Ooh! I should've come as Roku! My hair's long enough!"
"I dunno, you could've made a good Ty Lee." He paused, then grinned. "And I bet Des would have appreciated the costume, too."
"Um, uh, maybe next year?" she stammered. "Or, y'know, on Purim," she added, grinning. "That's sooner. So..." She gestured at the teapot. "Would you like some tea, or do you have some honor to chase?" She winked.
Zeb couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Who made it, anyway? Ooh--" He looked around. "Maxwell said he might be here tonight; maybe he'd like some!"
"Des made the first pot, I'll be making the rest. And hey--you can take a cup for him, unless you see him here right now?" She pulled a pair of small cardboard cups (patterned to look at least vaguely A:tLA canonical) from her voluminous sleeve and poured tea into one of them. "What would he have come as?"
"I saw one of his teammates earlier, she looked great. Maybe I'll ask her if he's here."
Dawn poured the second cup, and handed both of them to the Luxray. "Good luck, nephew! May you find what you are looking for!"
Zeb took both cups and, grinning from ear to ear, gave Dawn a farewell nod (seeing as a wave would be somewhat difficult at the moment). "Have fun! Maybe I'll see you later, huh?"
((Like so: http://i.imgur.com/1wywW.jpg))