With drink and snack in hand, Geist returns to the crowd mulling around for the announcement of the winners for tonight's events. The refreshments are welcome treats for an evening of running, jumping, and chessing harder than he's ever done before in his life. The sensation and scent of sweat beneath the heavy dinner jacket and hip hugging jeans makes the Punk flit about the floor for that one golden patch of space where the air vent goes fwoosh. He dabs at his forehead with napkin and flicks away the now loosened strands of his formerly spiked hair. Awww great. Now I look like a fap. This sucks so much ass...
He applauds right on cue for the sake of not being a douchebag and sore loser. Sportsmanship's not really his thing though and for the scarce remainder of the night he slinks about with the skulks. He consoles himself with the fact that at least it Consilium in Sacramento doesn't lack for excitement.