Jeremy whirls around, blanket tugged around himself like a stereotypical Indian squaw, although this is definitely for reasons of warmth rather than modesty. He gives the tiny individual addressing him a hazy nod, complete with a 'what the hell are you wearing' headtilt and the automatic glances at face, chest and hips that tend to accompany someone who is, consciously or not, attempting to determine gender of the person they are speaking to.
It is worth mentioning that if Jeremy did not work on Las Vegas Boulevard, he would probably be way more weirded out by your wardrobe. As it is, well. You are not actually the strangest thing he has seen on a Saturday night.
Or whatever night this is.
"I'm either on a super, super bad trip-- and I did not take anything last night that was remotely hard enough to account for this-- or the mob has come up with entirely new ways to fuck with people, so, either way, I think the answer's no," he says through chattering teeth.
"--Are you in town for the Space Trekking convention?"
[location]
It is worth mentioning that if Jeremy did not work on Las Vegas Boulevard, he would probably be way more weirded out by your wardrobe. As it is, well. You are not actually the strangest thing he has seen on a Saturday night.
Or whatever night this is.
"I'm either on a super, super bad trip-- and I did not take anything last night that was remotely hard enough to account for this-- or the mob has come up with entirely new ways to fuck with people, so, either way, I think the answer's no," he says through chattering teeth.
"--Are you in town for the Space Trekking convention?"