Jack Hudson
Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)
Jack blushed slightly, in a manly way of course, at Bazhooli and Tatiana's praise. He never had been called a star before--a good sport, sure, a true bro, yeah. But a star? No, that was Bazhooli and Tatiana. Just watching the two of them practice their acts, it was obvious that they were. He chuckled a bit at Bazhooli's comment about his funny accent--to Jack, the Boston accent was normal, and his fiancĂŠe and Bazhooli were the ones with the funny voice. Not that it was funny on Tatiana, of course--it was beautiful with her.
"I'll give 'er a go..." Jack said, walking around in a circle in seemingly deep thought. Bazhooli's stage name was obvious -- the Great Bazhooli. Tatiana however...He thought for a moment, before breaking out in a big goofy grin. He knew exactly what stage name would fit her--but of course, if she wanted a different one, it was no big deal. He just had a hunch she'd want this one.
Clapping his hands together, Jack stared out at an imaginary audience, aware that he looked like a goofball already. "Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and gihls, and othahs...Presenting straight from Mothah Russia, from the wondahful city of St. Petahsbuhg...the Greeeeat Bazhooli and the Nightingaaaaaaale! Pehforming in the Apocalypse Grand Tour, this Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday....Monstah trucks and more! Be there, or be a walkah! Or square. That too."
Ădouard Riviere
Location: Abandoned Classroom (Franklin)
Ădouard's heart sank as Sana shut the door. This was it, she was going to attempt to seduce him after all. He'd have to be strong, stronger than he had ever been before. He closed his eyes tightly, imagining the most disgusting creature in the world--the orange man he saw on that game show. As he felt a hand on his shoulder, Ădouard yelped like a terrified puppy, opening his eyes slowly as Sana began her explanation.
His eyes narrowed a bit, and he remained silent as she talked, perhaps the most quiet he had ever been. If she wasn't attempting to seduce him, what could she possibly want? She was a countess--or a princess? He couldn't quite recall. Either way, she was rich. She was clearly sleeping with the guy that had come in before. What could she possibly want with Ădouard Riviere, if not sex or money?
Bracing himself for a blow, for another slap to the face, Ădouard was shocked again as Sana enveloped him in a hug. Confused, he awkwardly hugged her back, tapping her on the back as if he was uncertain as to what to do. Her smile unnerved him as well, but Ădouard was forced to revise his previous conclusion. For some bizarre reason, the woman seemed to care about him. Sana, the queen or whatever she was, cared about him.
"Oui, je resterai ici."
Tryke Lockley
Location: Franklin
Tryke smiled a bit as Bridgette used her preferred name. From Bridgette's general attitude and behavior, she figured the Viking woman might have taken some more convincing. It wasn't like Tryke was capable of doing more than just asking her, either. Her main method of conflict resolution had been cut off by the apocalypse--she couldn't just douse someone with helium gas whenever she was pissed at them anymore.
"Georgia Tech?" Tryke asked, the smile still on her face. "Cal Tech here, mechie. Did my undergrad at M.I.T...So the entire Cal Tech-M.I.T. rivalry thing can make things complicated." She chuckled a bit, referencing perhaps the oddest college rivalry to ever occur. Both schools Tryke attended were bitter rivals--but they were also separated by over two thousand miles geographically.
It was almost a dream come true, finding another engineer. Sure, they tended to tease her a bit about her parents', but Marx seemed to either be kind or oblivious. Engineers always tended to be on the same wavelength of her, having gone through the same education, and have the same ideas on how to solve problems. If this hadn't been the apocalypse, she would've asked him to get a drink with her.
She snorted at Bridgette's comments. The I-limb, from what she recalled, wasn't able to vibrate at the speeds needed for that type of pleasure. Had there been more time to develop it, it's possible it could have been. And perhaps Marx's model was more advanced than she suspected, rather than something simultaneously primitive and cutting edge. "I'm not sure the I-limb moves fast enough for that. You'd be better of modifying a beater. More energy and resource efficient as well...And cheaper, of course, but money doesn't really exist anymore." Tryke laughed again at Marx's comment. The man had a sense of humor, that was certain.