[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=c0c0c0]The Great Bazhooli[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0c830ac3-637e-4722-a654-d4192b0bd4c2.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]7[/b] (Rec Center)
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	No strippers? It seemed downright UnAmerican. But perhaps Jack had a point; The Great Bazhooli was very new here. Jack was new here too, but perhaps the man knew a couple of things that he did not. Honestly, Bazhooli was rather interested in attempting to get the entire, classic interpretation of the "Bachelor Party" together, so it became the slightest bit depressing for him to have his efforts curtailed. Then he realized the simple truth of the matter, being that this was not [i]his[/i] party, and these people were probably not as colorful as his native clan. This was for Comrade Jack. Jack's party. And as Best Man, it was his responsibility to attempt to make something memorable for the Groom-to-be, on terms as close to his as possible. 

	Bazhooli pondered over this thought inwardly, even as he hurled a series of bowling pins into the air with the intent of catching them a second later and stylishly tossing them back upward again. [color=c0c0c0]"Spasibo, spasibo!"[/color][sub]1[/sub] he exclaimed cheerfully as the Massachusetts native tossed one pin, then the other at his hands. Bazhooli faltered just a hair as he incorporated them into the revolving wooden pins. Whether it was his own fault for lack of strenuous practice on the skill lately, or the error of the untrained man tossing him pins was immaterial. Doing this a few more times would work out any minor mishaps like this. Not that it was a mishap, so much. Just the tiniest sliver embarrassing that he had to take a hand out of the rhythm for a millisecond to adjust. If nothing else, the Russian Circus was demanding in terms of acceptable deviation from perfection. 

	[color=c0c0c0]"Very nice, Jack. Smooth. Maybe ve try again, please? Hold on..."[/color] Keeping the pins going, he ejected two of them from the rotation fairly fluidly. Were he passing them off to another trained juggler, the toss would have looked a little different, a touch flashier and spinny. But Bazhooli suspected that his new friend had zero training in the skill, so it was a flat, soft hurl, both times around. 

	He continued jugging just the three, switching from a full cascade back to the typical, one pin in the air at a time style of juggling common across the globe. It was about this time that Meg neared the two. In his concentration to get the transition correct (and hopefully knock some dust off of his skills juggling things that were not sharp), The Great Bazhooli may have waited a little longer than was polite to answer Meg. 

	[color=c0c0c0]"Sorry! Very sorry, little Meg. Doing vell, very vell. Am not needing anything right now..."[/color] he trailed off for a moment, [color=c0c0c0]"...but time to practice, and plan for show."[/color] 

	The other [i]other[/i] new person, Tatiana, had her own query, followed up by Jack. The petite ballerina displayed some curiosity as to her intended's role in the actual performance, the follow-up putting the decision squarely on Bazhooli. Truth was, he hadn't actually thought that far forward on what role, if any, Jack would have in the performance, nor precisely what they would be doing. It obviously would involve juggling and dancing, but aside from that it, like his pins, were up in the air. Moreover, the odd Cossack didn't want to make any promises that didn't work out, nor exclude anyone from being a part of the festivities. Especially if it might drive a wedge between a new, young couple.  

	[color=c0c0c0]"Vould love help! But for now, Jack just helps me practice. Maybe ve sit down, set up show. Talk about how ve put talents together, da?"[/color] 

[hider=Translations]
1	=	Thank you, thank you!
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[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] (at the side of) Franklin Rd/Hwy 34, headed west (hopefully soon)
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	Bridgette's mood lightened, if only incrementally. She was still dead certain that something had to be going on nearby in the woods, and now that the damsel had been undistressed (and hadn't attacked them), she was anxious to leave before any potential ambush got sprung. It had already not been the best of days, overall. She didn't want to end it by being dead. Trusting Astrid to continue watching her back, the taller Valkyrie kept her gave outward, ready to transition from spear to sawed-off if needed. Absently, she motioned to herself and her battle sister, intoning, [color=orangered]"That's Astrid. I'm Bridgette. We need to get out of here."[/color]

	Still, she gave minor contemplation to the words of their latest personnel acquisition. [color=orangered]"Well, aren't you the sweet-talker? I'll admit, first impression says you've got potential, even if you're not the horsey, stababitch type. Hurry your ass up, though. We've gotta ride. Some fucker's hurt real bad, and we're playing ambulance."[/color]

	Bridgette backed Cadence up slowly as the new girl got her stuff together. It was her hope that this woman was legit, the last thing she wanted to do was bring someone compromising into their home. Of course, if it worked out okay, it would be nice having another member of the Girls' Club, particularly if she could handle herself in a scrap. Or for other, carnally selfish reasons. They had gotten lucky in that regard with their friend and roommate Bryn, a person of similar moral leanings and refinement. Fingers crossed. It was [i]technically[/i] secondary to their overall mission of survival and building up the Newnan community, but the modern day shieldmaiden would feel at least a little depressed otherwise.