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[center][u][i][b]Booke's Apartment/Festival Grounds[/b][/i][/u][/center][center][u][i][b]Interactions - None[/b][/i][/u][/center]

	The soft shuffle of feet sliding into a pair of slippers was the first sound that permeated Sir Booke's room as he sat upon the edge of the bed. The older gentleman plucked a pair of rounded spectacles from his night stand, before unfolding them and placing them upon his face. He stood from his comfy perch, stretching out his limbs slowly as he shuffled towards his wardrobe, an exhale of relief escaping him. He gently pushed a sliding-switch about half an inch upwards as he passed by it, the lights in the room slowly becoming less dim, though not fully lighting the room.

   He ran a finger across the face of a calendar he kept next to his wardrobe as he began to unbutton his sleep-gown. [color=khaki]"Ah. This is the day of the festival."[/color] he said to himself as he pulled a pen from his nearby desk, before planting an "X" on the current date. [color=khaki]"Well...I suppose I should attend, shouldn't I?"[/color]

There were a series of muffled [i]chirps[/i].

Booke turned to his desk, stepping over to it before placing his hand on a round-top cylinder-shaped piece of cloth. He pulled the cloth away to reveal a bronze cage - within it, several cockatiels. [color=khaki]"What do you dears think, hmm?"[/color] he inquired as he opened the cage with a soft smile, rubbing each of the three under the chin, in turn. They emitted soft, pleasured coos as their owner did so.

He closed the cage softly once more, moving back to his wardrobe as he got dressed.

After he was finished, he took the cage by the top and moved it with him as he left his bedroom. He moved it to the dining counter, opening the cage door once more for the birds to come and go as they pleased, before he strolled over to the window, pulling the curtains to the side before slowly shifting the blinds to the open position. [color=khaki]"There you are, lovelies."[/color]

Booke soon retrieved his wallet from the bedroom, as well as a lightweight, light-brown longcoat - one of his favorites - along with a darker Trilby hat. He donned both the pieces of clothing, concealing the wallet in an inward chest-pocket, before proceeding to his apartment door. He snatched his cane from the corner nearby before closing the door behind him, the jangle of his keys signaling his departure as he locked the door.

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[i]Whump![/i]

[i]Beep-Beep.[/i]

Booke stood beside the passenger-side door of his self-driving Sedan as he tucked his keys back into his chest coat-pocket with a gloved hand. He turned around and took in the air around him. Even from several blocks away (where [i]even then[/i], his car had a tough time finding a parking spot), one could smell the environment of the festival in the air. Tons of people, food, festivities - all awaiting those social enough to find their way there. 

The older man made his way closer to the festival at a stroll's pace, greeting friendly faces along the way - various people going to and from the festival carrying bags of food and the like. [color=khaki]People are always so friendly this time of year. It's quite soothing.[/color] he thought with a smile.

A fresh breeze brushed over him, carrying the many scents that told him - he was there.

The drone of the people was the most prominent sound one could hear when they came to the festival every year; the bargains, purchases, stories shared - they all contributed to the common noise that was, in itself, a part of the spectacle. Sometimes, even the events that took place on stage were drowned out by the people that surrounded it - if you weren't particularly interested, that is. However, there was one thing that was never drowned out. Nico Devina.

Even having just recently arrived only minutes ago, Booke had heard Nico's commotion from some ways away. And the crowd that surrounded the stage was a testament that many others had as well. While Booke had never been a fan of Nico's modern genre, he had to admit that the 'young' talent had a certain charisma to him. He definitely turned heads.

But for now, Booke would forego the artist's rambling, in favor of fetching himself some sort of meal, or drink. He explored the festival grounds at a leisurely pace, searching for something to indulge his palette.

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Booke wasn't unaware of the MSU's presence at the festival. It was common for them to [i]at least[/i] surveil the event. There was a lot of people present, and a lot of mutants. And a lot of potential for accidents.

But today was his day off. The MSU could last a couple days without him - he was sure.