[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=cca78e]Giosue Zino[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/3o6Zt2bcxvpiTQpZio/giphy.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Ville au Camp: Main House: Room 202->Front Gate
[b]Skills: N/A[/b][/center][hr]
	These kids just couldn't let an old man plan out his night in peace could they? Not even just let him have a few hours to work things out before causing a ruckus. And it was Mr. Grady as well (even if the word choice weren't a dead giveaway, the decibel level would). Gio had some degree of faith in his ability to be rational when it mattered, so his evident freak out, clearly audible even through the Emendator's shut door gave him pause. Perhaps he should go confront the paradox about Ms. Gonzalez... "lo-panning out"

	But then there was something else. That tugging feeling. He knew it. Now was not a good time for that feeling. Couldn't these things wait until next week or next to occur. He would have his hands full enough setting up the party as-is, having to divvy up his time even further was a loathsome prospect. Yet he could not ignore this feeling in the base of his spine. Of all the issues at hand, this had to be dealt with first. Mr. Grady could be dealt with after the fact. Putting his pen down, Gio left his room and single-mindedly made his way through the house and out to the front gates where all those noisy trucks had decided to take up residence.

	[color=cca78e]"Salutations, gentlemen. What can I do you for?"[/color]