Conscientia

[gamemakers]

WHO| Open
WHAT| Night life at the Speakeasy
WHEN| Evenings this week
WHERE| The Speakeasy
WARNINGS/NOTES| Feel free to use this party post style, or however you like if you would like to set any threads here.

The speakeasy was a classy joint. Wood panels, and soft velvet, and usually some kinda of live music, something mellow and easy to relax to. It was big, with low ceilings and with many back rooms, some easy to access, others less so. Easy to get lost in. And it gave off an air of class, of comfort, and being a part of something a little different from the rest. The kinda place where everybody knew your name, and everybody knew to be discreet about it.

It was the perfect place to grab a drink, sit, talk, and relax. No one over heard you, no one got in your business, but everyone was glad to talk if you wanted to find a friendly face. The owner, Conscientia, made her round every now and then, saying hello to her regulars, welcoming those who were new.

Comments

[mannersmatter]

Effie turned to the man, one of the tributes. One who had made already a bit of a buzz for himself. It couldn't hurt their tributes for her to be friendly to someone like him.

"What color?" She asked, puzzled, but smiling.

[itsananimalthing]

"Oh, I dunno." He pretnded to look her over, somewhere between playful and derisive. "The hair, the dress, or the drink. Take yer pick. Though the drink's probably the worst." It looked like it might be radioactive, it was so bright. Which, he supposed, would work given the last arena. Some of the drinks at that one party had looked pretty radioactive, too.

[mannersmatter]

She gave him a long, assessing look, trying to decided if he was mocking her, or not.

"I tend towards pastels and jewel tons, generally...." She said, before considering the drink. "It is a bit bright..."

[itsananimalthing]

Of course he was-- Riddick was usually mocking people, when he wasn't directly angry with them. It was how he usually handled the universe and how utterly stupid it usually was.

And it probably wasn't hard to figure that out, not with him smirking at her, either. "Looks like it might kill ya, if you ask me," he said jovially. "Color like that. What's it taste like?"

[mannersmatter]

"Well, if you must know it is actually quite good. It's a melon liquor, pineapple juice and..."

She trailed off. She was rambling. Because being smirked at like that made her nervous. It was like Haymitch, all over again.

"It's good and quite non-deadly."

[itsananimalthing]

"Good, huh?" Riddick eyed it with misgivings, then grinned a bit more, and held out his hand, quite as if he were asking for a taste. In fact, that's exactly what he was doing. Manners, he had none. Except on the rare occasion he actually wanted to use what little he did have. "Prove it."

[mannersmatter]

She looked at his hand for a moment, blankly.

It wasn't that sharing was the strangest thing. She and her friends, when they went out, when she had had time to go out often shared around drinks. Take a sip, find out what you wanted next.

But putting the hulking man in front of her into any similar context as a bunch of giggling working woman who were letting loose for the weekend.

It took a moment to click. And really, before it did, she held out her drink by reflex.