Designation: Raven Tattersail
Location: Sammie's 2257-35ul
Time: Around 9 pm

Tattersail always sort of strolls. Like an old world chimney sweep always on the verge of breaking into a maddening dance accompanied by a boisterous song. Today he strolls into the Sammie. These delightful havens of depravity almost guarantee entertainment. If 'Sail is lucky, and he is, he will get to stick his hands inside some fortunate Solo, like a tinker fixing a watch, and make sure all the essential pieces are [i]just so.[/i] (Reginald Winthrop):[color=7B68EE]There has always been something decidedly off about you young man.[/color] (Constance Ferrier):[color=32CD32]Statistically most likely cause, chemical imbalance.[/color]

Swinging his clockwork bag jauntily up and plopping it onto the bar 'Sail proclaims loudly, "SILENCE, the both of you." And with a half-smile he sweeps the hat from his head and sets it upon his bag signalling to Mavis for something terrible. "My dear, ever so well oiled and smooth, easy on even the rustiest eyes... -he leans in- ... Have you ever heard of the Omnissiah? No? Yes? Doesn't matter. Nevermind." Sweeping up his drink Raven turns to face the other patrons of the Sammie. Looking for a potential customer, there's one hacked open every minute.

(Jeremiah Thorne):[color=FFD700]This is a boring waste of time. Just go snatch up some guttersnipe to experiment on so the research can continue.[/color] "Non-sense, I am a renowned Technomancer there are a plethora of people simply dying to secure my services. We will wait here for them." Tattersail quaffs his beverage, a rough term for it, and flicks a few of the ocular lens down in front of his eyes telescoping his vision down... to examine a nearby well rounded derriere. Excellent specimen. Might be worth putting on ice for later he muses entranced...