ArchivedLogs:Party Prep
| Party Prep | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 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.}" | |
