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[initiates]

Date & Time: Evening, 10th February 3312
Location: Transport Room
Characters: Open To All
Summary: Everyone is brought into the transport room at roughly the same time, in a great succession and flow of imported individuals. Everyone is being lead around in small bundles, or left to their own devices together inside the Initiative Hold.
Warnings: None.

Widespread and crowded, everyone is being transported into this unusually bright room with an efficiency that is almost horrifying. One after the other, new people are appearing -- being led, shown around and then ultimately abandoned with one final phrase; "Good luck."

The Initiative Hold is wide, like a small town in its depth and industry. You've received your weapon; you've got your keys, your netbook, and one of those robed strangers has shoved a small pouch full of what you can only assume is money into your open palm. You've been given an apartment, but where on earth -- are we on earth? -- is it? Your best opportunity right now is to mingle; at least, that's what everyone else appears to be doing. Those strangers in the robes have left. They're tending to the people who are arriving, one by one and in a quick procession. Energy bustles all around you, as you're strapped up with your sudden gifts and looking around.

Hey, maybe you'll even see some familiar faces.

Comments

[sharp]

[ Amy notices the briefcase paired along with his suit, probably making the same assumption as everybody else at first glance. But that's not what makes her take a second glance. She keeps her eyes on his hands as he taps the face of his watch. It could be nothing, but as a time traveller in a place where time was all wrong, it stood out to her.

She walks over to him, stepping up to his side. He definitely seems less panicked than most people. It's interesting. ] Late for something?

[topology]

[ Arthur's busy straightening the cuff of his sleeve when Amy approaches, the small horseshoes of his cufflinks catching briefly. In the end, it's an affectation: he's not one for reading people, not like Eames or Cobb, but there's a weight to his movements because the air of a professional can do a lot of things to the people of a crowd.

His mouth curves into something resembling a smile, and then quickly crooks at the corners. The overall effect is a little self-deprecating — a certain dryness to the way he exhales out something that's not quite a laugh.

(Late for reality sounds melodramtic, even to his own ears.) ]

Probably, [ He says, then shrugs. ] It's broken.

[sharp]

Guess it doesn't know how to handle a thousand year time difference. Ehm, I mean, if that's the case for you.

[ She realizes she makes the assumption he's from her time, but she has a feeling she can't be too far off. But late for reality wouldn't sound too far off either. It's all a bit mad. ]