conversations: human
conversations:  9:54pm Forsyth Park 
   
  The recession had been hard on tourism as well as local businesses, however with the arrival of summer Savannah had gotten it's fill of visiters as the city while not as big as some other destinations was considerably cheaper and the spillover from visits of local colleges greatly helped as well. With the warm weather after a long cold winter, the Savannah Haunted Trolley tours had gotten an excellant crowd during the summer nights with the lack of sun cooling the coastal city considerably and the fact that there was an abundance of creepy destinations made it so that different routes could be taken to make the tours far more unique than other ghost specticals.
  
  This particular night, the tour was given to a large party of maybe forty SCAD college students in the occult investigations club. Not only had they paid ahead of time for the longer tour route, they had also hired a local photographer to take pictures at the historic Forsyth Park before they were going to have a meal from some tables set up around the park and several dozen pizzas that were ready to be eaten. It was really one of the busier nights as it wasn't only the large party but several other tourists and some locals who had heard that some photography had been included for the package and seemed interested in the event. The park itself was exceptional well lit for the night time, the trees overhung with the spanish moss as the lit fountain hummed in the background over the stone walkways. The first batch from the tours wouldn't be coming around for another ten minutes or so, but everything was already ready to see that everyone had a good time.
conversations: Aoiroo:
conversations: human
conversations:  Tom fussed and fiddled with his camera, making sure the film was fitted correctly in the old, battered looking object. He had a few spare spools in his pocket, which he'd be using. He tended to take more pictures than necessary in case he messed up some of them accidentally.
  
  He was dressed in a plain blue suit, a red tie flipped back over his shoulder so it wouldn't get in his way as he worked on his gear. A navy blue umbrella, not a cheap looking one either, was propped against a nearby bench, within arm's reach.
conversations: Ecalsneerg:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alacoque struggled to heft his messenger bag, his nose simultaneously buried in yet another book of the weird and wild he'd found buried in his shop. Pulling it out of the tome for a moment, he squinted at the nearly empty square, slightly abashed, and murmured to himself. "Early...huh, that's unusual."
  
  He shrugged and looked around for a seat, mulling over precisely how he'd gotten here; hearing about this fascinating "Haunted Trolley Tour" from one of his customers (they even passed him a ticket in exchange for a discount; not that he minded, he did try and keep an open mind about that kind of thing), he'd decided it behooved him somewhat to pick up some of the local color. Quinn'd only been in town a few weeks, and he'd yet to really see any of Savannah's attractions.
  
  The book-seller took another few steps towards a bench, amazingly managing to keep his feet from treading on the ends of his rather long scarf; he wore the usual outfit, a tweed jacket and brown slacks, with a waistcoat and white shirt underneath it, and a small chain hanging around his neck to beneath said shirt. Atop his head was a wide-brimmed brown fedora, perched on his somewhat frizzy hair; the whole ensemble gave a distinct feel of eccentricity or comfort, or perhaps both.
conversations: Sleepinin:
conversations: human
conversations:  Without even looking up, Tom simply said, "Sorry, sir, but would you mind finding another bench?" He fumbled with a length of film for a moment, before looking up at the man before him.  Wow. That's... an outfit, I guess? 
  
  Not quite looking the man in the eyes, but fixing his gaze on a spot on the man's left cheek, he explained, "I'm setting up my camera equipment here."
conversations: Ecalsneerg:
conversations: human
conversations:  If the cameraman's abruptness perturbed the somewhat oddly dressed fellow, he didn't show it; Alacoque simply smiled warmly at the fellow and nodded, traipsing over to another handy bench with a murmured apology. For a moment he rubbed one spot on his cheek, then checked his fingers for smudges or dirt. Spying nothing, he shrugged, reopening his book and sticking his nose into it yet again.
conversations: Sleepinin:
conversations: human
conversations:  Franchise Welts was about 5'6" in her short heels and a bit pudgey as she walked ahead leading the first group from the trolley that had returned. She wore a short sleeved blouse and khakis under the dark vest and pin with her name on it. She approached by walking backwards smiling as she rambled off facts about the park they were in and about the special part of the package that had been purchase. When the group she was leading dispersed, she headed straight to the photographer's bench not really taking a second glance at the man in the tweed jacket.
  "Mr. Huntsman, do you need any more time for set up?"
conversations: Aoiroo:
conversations: human
conversations:  The man shook his head, before pulling a camera strap down and over it, and picking up his umbrella to hook over one arm. "No, I think that's everything." He gave a curt nod.
  
  "So, take it we're ready to go, then?"
conversations: Ecalsneerg: