Thread Roulette: Questionable Activity

[Event !]

Tree Roxenbough is looking to score something from Michael Wakefield, Victoria Jefferson just happens to overhear.

Rules: Your characters may speak only in questions.

[Michael Wakefield]

The elderly pixie really did not like the clubs very much. That was a terrible understatement, of course. He wasn't allowed his dog as she wasn't a guide dog and nor was he blind... which seemed unfair since she was ever so well behaved when he wanted her to be. He had left her at home on her own now for three consecutive nights, and she did not like that one bit, as he'd quickly discovered when she started hiding his things in with her toys. But if he could get more 'clients' this way then he could suffer a little mischief for a little while longer.

Miss... Tree, she called herself. What sort of a thing was that to name oneself? Of course it was types that did so that kept him in business more often than not, so he shouldn't complain internally or externally but still. Something a little more creative couldn't have been so difficult for her? Not that it really mattered or that he actually cared; all he cared about was making his little profit and returning home.

Spotting the young lady in a secluded-looking corner, he went to stand by her looking as unimpressed with the place as he felt. "Still interested in our transaction?" he asked, resisting the urge to fold his arms.

((Sorry about the lameness of this post you guys -_-;; ))

[Victoria Jefferson]

Victoria had been in desperate need of a distraction. Or so she'd been told. Thus that evening found her our and about the sleepy little town. In a club of all things. With a virgin something-or-other in one hand and an elbow on the bar as she watched the younger crowd gyrate to the rhythm. Or something like that.

So when an elderly gentleman approached a far younger woman and asked about a transaction, Vikki's eyes narrowed. Far be it for her to assume anyone was propositioning someone else, but there was something about the way he leaned in towards the girl, and the way his eyes made contact that set her skin to crawling. Something wasn't right. Not right at all.

Not that she had any special abilities to tell one way or the other, nothing outside of intuition and observation anyway. Still, Vikki wasn't so sure about the goings on and scooted closer to get a better listen on.

[Tree Roxenbourge]

It was Funk night. Tree loved Funk night, and already had her hips swaying when Michael rocked up. Still bouncing slightly to the beat, Tree glanced up and down and smirked a little. "Who died? she joked, beating her hands against her thighs softly as her skirt swished.

There was a sort of... apple shaped woman who was doing that thing people did when they thought looking pointedly away at something made people think they weren't looking. Huh. Hey, people of all ages could engage in Tree's brand of enlightenment.

Tree pulling her dreds back out of her face. "Does your stuff make people feel that miserable? Or do you always look like someone killed your favourite petunia?" The lights were flickering off her face, and the metal stuck through it, and there was a bottle of cheap wine with her name on it at the bar. But this guy... this guy looked like he would rather be Train Spotting. "How about a dance first?" she offered, grinning. "You wanna cheer up, right?"


Sure, Tree wanted to try some Sparkle (even pixie dust got a slang name when it was sold) but he was making her feel all down and buggy and that was no way to take anything, anyone and everyone knew that.

[Event !]

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