( Jet is not particularly amused with the whole idea of being drug down to hell (wherever that might be) but that's definitely on the back burner to the task at hand. His goal for the evening was to accomplish bringing in as much as these balloon-headed creatures as he could to the hotel's front desk to get a ticket to that hot gourmet meal. It better be good; it's all he can hope for. After all, it'll be his first fancy meal down in Hell.
He didn't have to go too long before those bobble-headed freaks began to follow him. Try as he might, however, he couldn't quite seem to get a wrangle down on them. The next thing he noticed was that others seemed to have more or less than what was following him--
which sparked an idea to catch someone else's baggage.
The first guy he came up to was a bit short, thin haired, brunette, and seemed to be high. Or drunk. Or just frustrated. Or maybe he just had a special personality which budded out all around him, despite having no one else to benefit from his disposition. In any case, the guy was talking to himself and then promptly telling himself to shut up.
Who was he to judge? They were all in the same boat after all. )
Hey, there..? Seems like you got a bit of a following there. I got an idea. You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours.
( Jet gestured, with his robotic limb, to his back where his own group of black-heads were following him. His left arm was a strong synthetic that gave him a bit more strength than his real arm was able to. He was tall, muscular, and balding, but had plenty of hair to trace down his cheeks and to his chin. )
stand your ground; prompt ii
He didn't have to go too long before those bobble-headed freaks began to follow him. Try as he might, however, he couldn't quite seem to get a wrangle down on them. The next thing he noticed was that others seemed to have more or less than what was following him--
which sparked an idea to catch someone else's baggage.
The first guy he came up to was a bit short, thin haired, brunette, and seemed to be high. Or drunk. Or just frustrated. Or maybe he just had a special personality which budded out all around him, despite having no one else to benefit from his disposition. In any case, the guy was talking to himself and then promptly telling himself to shut up.
Who was he to judge? They were all in the same boat after all. )
Hey, there..? Seems like you got a bit of a following there. I got an idea. You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours.
( Jet gestured, with his robotic limb, to his back where his own group of black-heads were following him. His left arm was a strong synthetic that gave him a bit more strength than his real arm was able to. He was tall, muscular, and balding, but had plenty of hair to trace down his cheeks and to his chin. )