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"Born and raised. 'Course, went north when the fightin' started, and I was in Kansas when old Firefly and me got tossed in here." He waved his hand vaguely, as if to indicate HQ as a whole.

((Just to be clear, Jesse fought for the Union in the Civil War; he went north to enlist, not as part of a campaign.

-Alleb))

'You're not a knight of some sort, are you?' he asked. 'You know, I wanted to be a knight, when I was terribly young. Or a baker, one of the two. I can never quite remember.' He considered, briefly, asking if she was a baker, but something in the back of his head answered 'No, probably not.'

((Should we, perhaps, start closing it up to enter them into round 2? Give others a shot and such? Unless you got anything else to add or whatnot.))

It had turned out, to his disappointment, that there were no official openings for 'professional coward.' His side choices, 'official yellow-belly,' 'executive milksop,' and 'full-time namby-pamby' had all gone that same route. Building Maintenance was all that was left, as he saw it. He never, however, gave up on his ambitions, and worked paranoia and cowardice as a full-on hobby. His skill had grown beyond compare. He was, as such, very highly talented in the art of deducing whether or not somebody was walking towards him. His sonic-sensors spiked. Something unique in the levels, something odd in the volume. He swished his ocular to the side. Whir, click. It widened, then narrowed. No doubt about it. Moving, towards him. Right towards him - a direct path that led right to him. To Finch.

'Hello,' he said. He extended an actuator and pointed, backing off slightly. 'This is a date-thing, right? You don-t have a giant, serrated knife knocking around on you you want to stab into me, or anything like that, right? And don-t get bloody cheeky, I-m against giant serrated guns, too. Even moreso, honestly.'

Kei noticed his name written on a card propped up on a table on the other side of the room from where he stood, as clearly as if a spotlight had been shone upon it.

"Thorn, I think I found my spot. I'm, um, going to go now." He pointed a couple times, then waved. She smiled and waved back as he scurried off, cape billowing. She had to admit, it matched his pink hair oddly well.

Her youngest daughter would have loved his outfit. Beulah had been fascinated by the Kerch-style theater troupe that had visited their town in Novya Zem the month before Thorn had had to leave her family and had spent the next weeks scrounging for fabric and paint to recreate the costumes. Although, perhaps Kei's shiny, angular codpiece would have been too much even for the, what was it called, the Komedie Brute.

She was herself feeling drawn towards one of the tables, where she could see a boxy sort of person wrapping up a conversation. It didn't even occur to her to smooth out her yellow floral-print gown before striding over. It would cling; there was nothing to be done about that. She needed to have all her wits about her: she was about to have a conversation with a complete stranger.

((Because I can't just describe their outfits and bearings like a normal person :P

--Key lives for flashbacks))

"Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. See the eyes?" he asked, grinning and pointing at them. "Two things weren't related, sorry, just mentioned Potterverse because this one time, we got a whole week of nothing but. Mike practically had to drag me into missions by the end of it. Usually, though, Potterverse is good. It was... I think the third or fourth thing I read here? I actually tried reading on a mission until I lost a foot because I wasn't paying attention." He laughed a little at the memory. He'd barely even noticed when the parenthesis had cut it off until he'd felt it growing back.

((Hm. I was under the impression that it was mostly Petunia who wasn't happy she'd married James, and that was because Petunia was greener than Envy of the Giant Lizard form. Is an irritating skeptic. Also, since it's probably relevant, Apecian's eyes are red and have slit pupils. No, I didn't draw any inspiration from any of the canons. That would be silly.))

"But if it makes you feel better, my partners asked the same question the first time I showed them the pilot episodes. Give it a try if you're curious. I think you'll like Applejack the most out of the core cast. She's an earth pony who runs a farm and an apple orchard with her cowpony family. You guys even sound similar!"

She smiled when she realized she actually liked talking to him. Chris was right, I didn't need to worry. He's patient, he listens to me getting excited, he's actually kind of charming for a human... "I don't think you mentioned where you come from, Jesse."

He wondered what the scrolls entailed, if they described new spells or the history of this place. He wondered if they were handwritten or not--possibly field notes from a previous expedition that might prove useful for their own purposes.

Miguel smiled. "My mom and her friends liked those books a lot more than I did. One of them, I don't remember her name, always spent the entire day the new books came out reading them no matter what else we were doing. Mom swears she even read them at the pool!" He laughed, remembering him and Brenda trying (and failing) to convince the woman to swim with them. "I wonder if she remembers that, too? The jump to HQ kinda played havoc with our personal timelines...but that's a story not suited for speed dating."

((That thing Miguel mentions is based on what my mom and her best friend did with the books IRL. By the way, I saw a Tumblr post either today or yesterday with a headcanon that Harry is multiracial; the post cited his hair and the whole "Lily brought shame to our family by marrying James" thing as evidence. Your thoughts?))

"I've actually heard about you guys! Granted, that was only because the random button on TV Tropes led me to the page for Mass Effect 3...uh, anyway. I'm from the Pokémon series," he said. "If you haven't heard of it, the gist is that practically everyone lives, works, and even fights with the titular Pokémon--short for 'Pocket Monsters', but no one ever calls them that." He took out Mareep's Ball and gently tossed it to his right. "Go, Mareep!"

The sheep Pokémon looked around uncertainly and hid under the table. Chris scratched the back of his neck. "Oops. Forgot Mareep can be skittish in new places. Anyway, if it won't short out your suit, feel free to pat him. Mareep wool is really soft, but it stores static electricity."

Sonia brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. "What counts as 'standard' for you? Like, my standard is fishing Harris out of a jam," she said, looking over to him again. "But just last week I nearly got my head taken off by a dragon, so that's a change of pace. I assume Floaters work is just as dangerous, yeah?"

The last mission he'd been on, a possessed Hermione had nearly cut his face off. So that one hadn't been very good. The time before that, two Sues had forced Boromir and Aragorn to nearly cut his face off. So that one hadn't been very good. The time before that, Mia had nearly cut his face off for accidentally destroying her favorite sword. So that one hadn't been very good.

He took a sip of coffee. "Uh, 'fraid not," he said. "All pretty... standard."

((-Alleb))

If she had not just seen this man fold the table as if it were linen, she would have very carefully escorted him to FicPsych. "Oh, me? Ah, nothing so... drastic. I and my partner are in the Department of Floaters, and when not performing the Duty, I usually practice my swordplay. Or wrestle, when I have an opponent." She smiled, remembering a particular fight from not too long ago.

((-Alleb))

He felt, somewhat, like he was being pitied. He felt, too, what with all the lingering guilt in his head, that this was somewhat deserved. What a very old person thing to do, that was, being pitied. Bingle didn't usually think of himself as 'old.' He always felt that the aging process was the kind of thing that officially stopped with your heartbeat. You never see people bringing birthday cakes to graveyards, anyhow. And if you did, it was always promptly followed by the sounds of sirens, and groups of men in white coats who work in places with padded walls. Bingle was feeling rather old. Perhaps he should have stayed at home. Read a book, ate some popcorn. Dead men didn't read books and eat popcorn but, then, neither did old people.

'No, reality isn't very fond of that kind of thing. It is both elastic, and very unhappy that it is elastic, you know.' He scoffed, faintly. 'You'd never imagine how it reacts, when someone snaps it. Terrible, very terrible, for everyone involved. And the bystanders and people on the other sides of the street, and a few other people who happened to be unlucky.'

He looked up. 'Now, generally speaking, plane folding involves the manipulating of. Well. Planes. The planes that make up everything are, when you look at them in quite the right way, flat. Flat, much like paper. It may be folded, too, much like paper. I knew a fellow who folded a ship into a crane.' He smiled at the memory. 'It flapped its wings when you pulled its tail and blew its horn when you pressed its head.'

'I do have books on the subject I am more than willing to lend, but, ah.' He smiled and shrugged. He didn't think this topic liked him very much. 'What do you do, Miss Nalleb?'

Lou looked from the card in her hand to Duane. 'Is this me being racist, Duane? Because I can't say his name? Gosh.' She stepped through the room, steadily following the directions.

'That'd be a horrible first impression, wouldn't it, Duane?' And there was the table. Lou tried smiling. She didn't want a horrible first impression. Not at all. She wanted a great first impression. Or a good one. Decent. Lou, ultimately, wanted a first impression that was at least a step away from 'horrible.'

"So... yeah, haven't heard of him at all. What's he like?" asked the Spy as he leaned against the table and continued to sip his drink.

Apecian shrugged, then cast a contemplative look at the drinks. "You know, this would be the perfect chance..." He shook his head and grinned. "Nah, not worth it." He grabbed his own glass of unknown-brand soda and sipped at it. "Huh, not bad. Anyways, you asked about him? His name's Miguel. Last name... Correa, I think. You know him, or somebody who knows him? He's in Floaters, if that helps."

"Sorry man, I don't swing that way," he said simply. "So how about we relax for a bit? And help yourself to to the drinks," he said, waving a hand at the bottles on the table. "Just don't overdo it, yeah? Night is still young and all that."

He took his glass of cola and sipped from it. "So, if you don't mind me asking... who was the guy you were interested in?"

He didn't shout it, but he didn't bother lowering his voice to the levels Harris had. "That's a first. I get exactly what you mean, though. Here's hoping we don't end up at the same table at the end of the night, and that yours goes better." He took the pencil, and started playing with it with his fingers. "Thanks a lot! I was wondering where I'd find one." He paused to consider. He'd never seen Harris give any signs, but... "Do you actually want this to be a date date, or just wanna relax?" he asked.

"Madwoman with a 'partner' that's actually just a rock. She called it 'Duane' and kept on talking to it," he said in a very low voice as to avoid drawing Lou's attention should she be in the vicinity. "I mean, whatever floats her boat but I'm not into that. I'd like someone a little more... I don't know. Someone I can be comfortable around."

His eyes subconsciously flicked over to where Sonia was sitting before focusing back on Apecian. "Also, you said you needed something to write with?" he said as he pulled out a small pencil from a pocket. "Take it, there's loads in the Sorting Room. Don't think they'll miss one pencil."

She folded her hands together. "Not much to say, really. I'm sure that you have better stories than me. Had any 'good' missions lately?"

"Just met a guy, seemed pretty cool. Might say yes, actually, whenever I find a pen." Apecian grinned. "How 'bout you? How was your first date?"

Harris stood up to shake the agent's hand. "Long time no see, guy. How have you been? And Any luck tonight?"

He considered telling her about Duane's not-aliveness but held his tongue. On one hand, this woman was clearly channeling her insanity through her 'partner'. On the other, she was here and trying to be social... with Duane. Something had to give.

"Not so much," said Harris slowly. "I think Duane might be... er... getting in the way...?"

"Agh!" The girl whipped around, finally noticing the impatient people behind her. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I--"

Lu clamped a hand over the babbling human's mouth. "She apologizes for blocking the entryway." She firmly dragged C to the side. "But look. Now it's not blocked anymore."

Steele sighed and brought one hand to her forehead... and then drew it back at the feeling of paper. Oh! Right! They had things to do! "Let's all go in together, okay? We've got people to see!"

She started picking through it, trying to find something good. Davug shook off his stupor and reddened a little. He had very much not intended to just stand there and stare, and hurriedly walked over to the weapons rack to try and find another one-handed weapon to go with his mace. Virro, meanwhile, decided that the amulet should do well enough while Centorea and Davug looked for other equipment, and so decided to investigate the map.