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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

Completely fine!

[andromynous]

[She shoots a glance upward and fixes him with - well, the glare one can expect from someone trying to stay out of the way and has just lost her daughter and son-in-law. If she were younger, she'd probably have just sent a hex his way.]

Excuse me? I am not at all in the way, and I would invite you to watch where you are going.

:D

[garwithnobrakes]

[He actually fumbles for a moment, not sure what to do with that stare -- which is both familiar and indecipherable at once, and not quite something you'd expect from someone haphazardly sitting on the floor. (Yes, he is the most observant, but at least he has half an excuse this time.)

After a moment, his temper settles to a dull simmer, sulk well-hidden but present; though she's startled him enough that he doesn't flat-out snap the way his first instinct tells him to.]

I don't know how you watch where you're going-- [his voice is still sharp, though] --but normal people look forward, not at their feet.

[andromynous]

I generally try also to watch enough ahead of myself that I don't trip over people and then attempt to blame them for as much.

[She's always had a temper, all right, and since she's dealing with her daughter's death presently she doesn't have much desire to control it.

She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. Nope, not moving -- even if it's a little immature.]