ArchivedLogs:Party Prep

Party Prep
Dramatis Personae Ion, Tag
In Absentia	2016-01-13 "{I'm free, what you need?}" (Follows birthday wishes.)
Location <NYC> {Funhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The house might have started out looking capacious and respectable, but it has since moved through various incarnations, always colorful, but never colorful the same way for longer than a few days. There is little in the way of what most people would call furniture: a sectional couch buried in fluffy cushions, three bean bags of varying sizes, a scattering of bookshelves, what looks like a human-scale cat tree in one corner, and a low, square table surrounded by zafus. The floor plan is largely open, criss-crossed by rope bridges linking small elevated platforms to the landing of the second storey, beyond which lie the bedrooms. The kitchen is separated from the living room only by a long counter, lined with stools. Even the appliances are decked out in unexpected hues, edged with designs that change on a daily basis. A row of tins and jars runs the length of the breakfast counter, none of which match and all of which bear brightly colored text describing their contents: teas, coffees, mates, and various herbal blends. Bang! Bang! Bang! It's getting latish Wednesday night when a very VERY emphatic banging comes on the door of Funhaus. Ion doesn't actually wait for the door to be answered; he's blipping in a moment later, eyes feverish-bright, a jittery bounce in his step, a large backpack hanging off his shoulder and a duffel bag in hand. "Tag-tag-tag hey-hey-hey ese hey bro --" Flitflitflit," he's not really staying /still/, vanishing to reappear in the kitchen, upstairs by Tag's room, back down in the living room, "{hey /hey/, I need help, you free, hey, hey.}" Tag pokes his head out of the door to his room just a split second too late to catch Ion. "{Coming!}" he calls, ducking back in the room for a moment to re-emerge wearing an overlarge rainbow vortext t-shirt and faded, over-long black gi-pants. He pads downstairs, shimmering green-purple duochrome hair hanging in his face and partially obscuring the faint frown of concern. "{What's happening? I'm free, what you need?}" "{/Hey/.}" Ion stops his bouncing -- for a second, at least, though he's back to it a moment later. The smile he turns on Tag is /huge/, bright, wide. "{Hey, bro, hey, you have some hours? Some work time. Some time. Some -- some, some, I need a favor. I mean not a favor I pay you. A job. A, a, a, some arts, yeah?}" He unzips his stuffed backpack, holds it open to THRUST it towards Tag, settling into one spot long enough to show the smaller man its contents. "{You think you can glam these up for me? I got kind of a /theme/ I'm aiming at and I'm, I'm need you to help. Make them /pop/.}" "{I have...hours. Before I fall asleep.}" Tag goes over to Ion, peering wide-eyed into the backpack. "{I can glam up how you want, may take a while.}" Now /he's/ bouncing, too, fluttering his hands in the air. "{What theme you want?}" This just makes Ion grin. Brighter. Broader. "{I want you to make me a party.}"