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Sam nodded at the Shadowsoul's order. "Coming right up boss," he said before turning around and fetching the bottle of Vodka. He poured Perry a glass and then set it in front of him. "Drinks are on the house today." The ensorcelled bartender paused for a moment before adding, "but tips are still appreciated!" He gave flashed the lawyer a quick grin as he nodded in the direction of a small tip jar lying on top of the bar.
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Danny scuttled in, trying to keep up his own internal resolve to compete. Because he had a horrible feeling that it wouldn't last the whole meal. He was dressed exactly as he always was- the heavy leather coat hung around his thin, stretched frame, covering the Hedgespun breasplate that he rarely removed, except to sleep.
If there had been a way to sleep comfortably in bonded metal, Danny would only have taken it off to bathe.
In deference to the fact that he was going to compete, he wasn't going to lose his nerve, he was going to have a go, Danny was wearing sneakers, and beneath his breastplate, a t-shirt instead of the loose workshirt he would normally have worn.
The Wizened's long fingers clutched his cane, and automatically, he made a beeline for the weapons. That would give him something to look at, and possibly take his mind off the fact that he was thinking about doing something crazy, like competing against Summer Athletes...
Rook strolled in, and felt instantly at home. His mantle unfurled around him like his own personal standard, the white and black squares of the Board rolling beneath his feet as he walked forwards. Crackling fusion flares shone through the rivets in his metal skin, white hot and blazing as the heat washed out.
It was strangely apt, on reflection. The three most powerful Summer mantles seemed to represent what might be called the cycle of Summer, as it fit into the seasons. From War, to Destruction, to the Desolation of the desert.
The newly appointed Red Victor was dressed in exactly the same way as he always did. And as always, his only concession to the season was to change the colour of his tie. Currently, it was red.
Rook was perfectly capable of moving in a suit. He followed the principle that if he couldn't fight in it, he shouldn't ever be wearing it.
He also didn't own any other clothes, except for a pair of swimming trunks. Somehow, he didn't think people would particularly want to see him in a pair of swimming trunks.
Except for a certain purple dragon, but she could get that whenever she felt like it.
He strolled over to the bar.
"Double Scotch please, Sam. Neat," Rook said quietly, and dropped a $20 in the tip jar. It would take a very long time indeed before he felt he'd made things balanced with the ensorcelled bartender.
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Flashing the bartender a smile at his mention of tips being appreciated, Perry grinned. "Of course, my friend." And six dollars went into the tip jar. In fact, the lawyer intended to simply put what the drink would usually cost into the tip jar tonight. Sam was a hard-working gent.
Watching as the Red Victor made his way up to the bar and placed his order, Perry took a sip of his drink and sighed in quiet enjoyment of the booze. "Good evening, Rook," he said with a pleasant grin. "Congratulations on your new appointment, sir!"
The chesspiece was a good guy, far as he was concerned.
Having been recently appointed the Iron Adjutant, it seemed more appropriate to make her first appearance in this official capacity, wearing some beautiful outfit. A dress perhaps, that tantalisingly revealed just enough skin to be sensual not slutty, perhaps with an eye-catching trinket to offset the purple scales. The hair-do might have been perfect, swept up in an intricate knot maybe.
In reality, Anya had not needed to go to such effort- not because she always looked good, because everyone had their off days. But because wearing a dress, heels and perfectly an idiotic hairstyle for this function would just be silly.
They were there to take part in feasts of physical ability, and while television might delight in showing women in form-fitting dresses giving ass, Anya had been very realistic about her attire. The Iron Adjutant was dressed to fight, in loose-fitting black trousers and a khaki tank top.
Unusually for her, Anya's hair was tied back in a ponytail, the swept back 'do revealing the delicate trail of purple scales along the side of her neck.
Anya sighted out Rook and Spartan immediately; it was difficult to miss their magnificent, blazing Mantles. As she strode into the hall, her own Mantle stood out too, like some bright and scorching beacon.
She strolled across to the cane-carrying Autumn Courtier; not with the intention of creeping him out exactly, but to catch up. Even so, the Draconic was aware as she approached Danny that his acknowledgement of her presence might be amusing.
"Hello there."
Jordan walks confidently and swiftly into the celebration, he is wearing typical martial art loose fitting paints with the kung fu slippers and a black wife beater. Jordan takes a quick glance at the people at the bar to see if he recognized any one. Jordan thinks to himself, "man after this traveling I could use a nice cold tasty beverage." As he enters the celebration he walks over towards the bar and asks the bartender, "Hey man can I get a Heineken from ya?" Jordan pulls out 10 bucks and places it on the bar surface.
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Sam gave Rook a silent nod, turning towards the bar to pour him a tall glass of Scotch. "Here you go," he said to the Red Victor, setting the glass in front of him. And just as he did that, the ensorcelled bartender noticed the newcomer asking for a beer. Without meaning to, he took a step back before giving the man a nod.
While he may have seen some weird shit in this place, newcomers had a way of taking him by surprise. Maybe it was the fact that Sam was used to some of the weirdness of the Four Seasons and its usual patrons, but he couldn't help but react to the arrivals of those he had not met before. "Umm, sure," he said to the Fireheart as he reached into a spot behind the bar, pulling a bottle of Heineken. He cracked it open and then set it down in front of the newcomer.
Spartan watched as Rook and Anya enter, giving them both a nod of his head as they look toward him. Beyond that he remained stoic, unless someone needed to speak to him of course. He would wait for the ohter Sovereigns to arrive before he called the events to begin.
GHOST-VISION == 'online'
Perhaps it was the power of Summer that made Jessica approach the evening with the caution of a tactician. More likely, however, it was a desire to avoid the same incidents that had previously plagued her last attempt to integrate into the court. Thus, the Autumn Gravewight found herself watching each and every member of the Freehold from the entrance, picking and choosing her approach carefully.
At the precise moment that Perry's drink was placed on the bar, she judged it safe to enter without drawing his ire. Spartan's attention should slip over her with so many people in the room, meaning she could get across to -
Well, she hadn't decided that much. As she passed by, she noticed the familiar comfort of an Autumn Mantle, and almost - just almost - went after it, before relenting and quickly hurrying the rest of the way across the room, as far from the bar as possible. And thus found herself talking to a certain Spring Minstrel...
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