taxonomites | [Location - The Birdhouse - Open to ALL] [brief visual]

Paul eyes the table full of food and the cheap plastic chairs he's got set up. There should be plenty-- if he runs out, he'll take it as a very good goddamn sign, because it means people showed up.

The food isn't anything too complex-- there's a big tossed salad, some lasagna, garlic bread (and room on the table for people to place their own additions, if they want). The point of this isn't to be gourmet: it's to get people here, to try and make everyone get onto the same page.

Paul pinches at the bridge of his nose. That may be too much to hope for. Same book, though. Same book would be nice. Reading out of the same encyclopedia which has some common rules about not screwing each other over in the face of dealing with a common enemy.

He reminds himself to be polite, to bite back on his natural bitchiness, or at least cloak it in socially-acceptable levels of sarcasm and humor. Then he picks up his tablet to broadcast a reminder to the city.

"Hey, Taxon: food's on. Come with your brains engaged."

It's a few minutes yet until noon. Paul has a seat in one of the chairs and leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, waiting for people to arrive.

[OOC STUFF! The Birdhouse layout is visible here. Since Paul lives in the building now, it does count as a private residence: if your character requires an invite to get in, they will find the way blocked unless someone invites them inside. If characters want to do that, either knowingly or unknowingly, that is cool OOCly, but I'd like a private PM first about it since it may all factor into things Paul does with the Birdhouse over time. I'm also totally down with playing out a vampire not being able to get in, and trying to have to cover that up if they want to.

EVERY CHARACTER IN TAXON is welcome in this thread, regardless of whether or not you have established CR, positive or negative, with Paul. Just post them arriving!

I'm going to put up a thread of placeholder for 'eating' versus 'Paul trying to get everyone to give introductions', in which people can go around the circle saying who they are, that sort of thing. All the threads I post will be taking place on the ground floor of the birdhouse-- if you want your character to explore, go for it! Just put in your subject line where they are poking around.

If anyone has any questions about layout or what characters would find, please feel free to ask me!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Gwen's got a glass of water, mostly to keep her hands busy. And she's certainly surprised when her gracious host, Mr. FBI himself, startles her with a question.

She considers him for a second. "No poetry here," she answers, not unfriendly, but she can't help but be wary. Not exactly the poster girl for law enforcement, here. Way back when, any party she usually attended involved stealing from the host right under his nose. Wonder what FBI here would think of that? "Demons, vampires, dragons...all the little monsters under the bed came out to play. Seen any of that stuff in...Earth circa 1999?"

And in his own screwy way, Paul Smecker has long since ceased to be a poster boy for law enforcement himself, either. Helping two wacky Irish vigilantes kill through most of the Boston mob.... it disqualifies you.

But that's neither here nor there, and even for Smecker it feels a lifetime ago.

He shakes his head at her question, his mouth full of bread, and chews and swallows before answering.

"Not a fucking bit of it, no. Enough of it since I've been here though-- dragon and vampires. And a demi-god, but he's gone."

A crooked, isn't-this-place-fucked sort of smile at Gwen. "It's been an education."

"I see," she says, keeping one eyebrow plenty raised. "Demi-god. That's new." It's like she's talking about the weather, and that is really just sad. Education she could stomach. It's the tests she is worried about.

Gwen hasn't seen any vampires...not any in person, at least. Yet. L.A had been full of them, among other things, and not even the superheroes could keep things at bay. It brought about questions. There's a curious tone to her voice when she speaks.

"That kinda stuff here...with no way out? I'm surprised the boys upstairs can maintain their population."

Paul shrugs. "They can bring us back from the dead," he says, his tone flat, emotionless.

"Already did it once with me. Maybe more than once, fuck if I know."

That should probably surprise Gwen, but it doesn't. Didn't they already kind of pluck her from death to get her here? Not that she'd hatched any grand plan to throw herself in front of a tram in the off chance she'd end up back home alive and kicking. She wouldn't want to tempt fate.

Still, she scoffs. "Anything they can't do?"

"Yeah-- give us a straight answer," Paul says with a tired smile at the young woman.

He finds one of the plastic chairs and drops into it, digging out his cigarettes. "...most of the time things are.... okay. For a given value of 'we're trapped here' okay. It's the glitches that can fuck with you."

This? This is something she can't remember in the spiel Mr. Librarian gave her, and her eyebrows crinkle with both confusion and dread at That Word.

"Must of missed that part of the manual." She folds her arms. "What's a glitch?"

"Oh, hell, nobody's explained those?"

Paul sighs, and offers a cigarette to Gwen before repocketing the pack, lighting his own cigarette.

"Glitches are... changes. Sometimes city-wide, sometimes just on an individual. They can range from the harmless to the annoying-- once, on St. Patrick's Day, I had to speak in a really bad Irish accent-- to the life-threatening-- a friend of mine got glitched into a vampire and bit my neck."

Gwen shakes her head, declining the cigarette, and looks at him while he goes on about these glitches. Seriously? Where is she, in a board game? She hopes whoever running the show is nice enough to skip over her when that turn comes around.

"Irish accent, huh?" Her lips twist into a tiny smirk. She just can't picture it. Oh, and yeah, that vampire thing's scary too.

Paul grimaces at the memory. "It was a barrel of fucking laughs, let's leave it at that."

He spends a few minutes outlining some of the major glitches he's experiences-- the forced kissing via the mistletoe, the city falling prey to the zombified Extras-- before in the course of events he has to circle around to some of the others at the party.

[Location - The Birdhouse - Open to ALL] [brief visual]

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