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This whole thing smelled like a balled up mess of baloney. With one hand shuffled in his pocket, Kevin Muller walked down on the worn sidewalk as he kept his wits about him. The letter he received doubled with a ticket to a place called [i]The Little Lyceum Theatre[/i] with a bad joke of a title— [i]“Mr. Jig’s Speakeasy: A Reality Extravaganza”[/i]. This individual must have thought himself a jokester to hand out something like that to him. But it wasn’t the title or the letter that bugged him but more the fact of how did this Jig shyster even get in on something he thought was buried and gone? It had been years since he did what he did and he did so quietly so the thought that somebody he had never met had found out was infuriating albeit mysteriously interesting. The analytic part of his brain was infinitely curious while the emotional part was amuck with dread, fear, and confusion. 

The reddish brown-haired man pulled out a packet of cigarettes as he placed one in his mouth and subsequently lit it— the packet read ‘Lucky Strike: It’s Toasted!’ in deep maroon and white coloring. It certainly helped with his balled up anxiety given the situation he was put in. 

He had been in New York before, but it had been some time… feeling almost a lifetime ago to the middle-aged man. He had never heard of the theatre in question, which was probably a bad sign. His hand flicked the cigarette out of his mouth as he arrived right outside of what seemed to be the building of address… though it was kind of a dump given the condition it appeared to be in. Honestly it shouldn’t have been too big of a surprise given the shifty nature of this whole scenario. Did he expect this crook to rent out the Strand Theatre or something? Certainly not.

[color=6699CC]“Hm.”[/color]

He exhaled some smoke before he tossed the cigarette on the ground, twisting it with the base of his foot. A waste to some, but it did its job—following that he straightened his suit and hat as he approached the doors cautiously before letting a simple one-two knock before entering the building. It was time to keep up his guard and wits, this was likely going to be a long night.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed that it appeared he wasn’t the only one who had arrived to this affair. What kind of con was this Mr. Jig managing? 

“That’s another! Welcome to the theatre!” 

He heard a woman, perhaps some accomplice of Mr. Jig to host the ‘activities’ of the affair. He let out a smile as he looked to her, [color=6699CC]“Suppose you’re out to start early, you don’t even have a big marquee to attract us in!” [/color]

“Got to keep the riff-raff out.” She cooed, “I’ll be your hostess for the evening.”

[color=6699CC]“Makes sense.”[/color] He nodded as he took a look at the others who had already arrived. Maybe he could deduce something about the people who had been lured here by Mr. Jig. Any clue was useful.

“Would you like a drink?”

[color=6699CC]“I’m swell, thanks.”[/color]

Taking a relaxed posture he’d then decide to lean against a nearby wall, hoping it wasn’t so worn out it’d collapse on him.