@ Ome (Stella):  A small group of unoccupied stylists greet you, smoking and lounging as it seems no one has come along yet today; of course, they're quite bored, and two start quibbling over who gets to fix you up... you're led to a seat with almost no wait, and they give you just about anything you could ask – first washing your hair, scrubbing up as you'd please, taking care of all the little details – the only thing the salon sadly lacks is pro combat literature – it's got everything else from Oziran Geographic, to styling magazines with the latest, from articles on keeping hair as long as one's hips without it being a hindrance, to one hundred faces of varying species that a crew or cropped cut could look good on a female.<br/><br/>“Darling...” One handsome stylist wearing his hair two inches and spiked, with the slimmest, fastest fingers, goes to work as soon as you tell him what you want done...<br/><br/><br/>@ KavenBach (Santi):  Tim blushes and brings you the tea, smiling with just a hint of what seems like first-timers nervousness.  He runs his tongue over his lips and Shari shakes her head.  “Whenever you feel ready...” She leads you both on to the next room, before a thick, plush, king sized bed.  The covers, the room, all a forest green or with a forest theme to it, woods and walls and the sky painted brilliantly and in detail.  “We do art as a couple, too.” She says.  “Wherever we've lived, we always painted the place up over time like this.  And now.” She pulls free from the box of goodies, several items, no whips, no chains or the like, but leather-binds   “I figured a little foreplay would only be proper, too...” She narrows her eyes seductively.  “See anything you like?”  *The items inside are oddly gentle-seeming, nothing particularly masochism-oriented.<br/><br/>“Strawberries... the food of love.” Tim places a small basket of them, wet and with a bowl of sugar, on the bed stand and sits on the bed, Shari pulling something from the box.<br/><br/><br/>@ Chirouso (Onyx):  *After a little while, James returns a call over the communication wall as well, before him a raven-feathered avian anthro with a wide, vicious smile across her beak – you'd likely met her once or twice before.<br/><br/>“Caleena.” James says, almost as though he's unsure of it.  “She volunteered most readily, and is looking forward to handling all our transportation.  That is, to and within and beneath the town.” He glances back, and you see her packing everything from crowbars to shovels to privative demolitions (as privative as possible in hopes that they might work outside of the confines of gimped magic or technology.)  Canisters of acids.  Hand-drills.  Hacksaws.  “Not a door she can't cut down, not a place we won't be able to get into.” He nods.  “So... who are you bringing with us, Onyx m'boy?”<br/><br/><br/>@ TaciturnTiger (Jori):  “It's nothing.” Carlos growls, suddenly unpleasant.  “Sorry...” He apologizes.  “Bosses.  People running the show have no patience.  I'm sure you'd understand what it's like to get the heat for something someone higher up did.  Ah, let's roll.”  It's moments later within the confines of a very tall, very steely building that you find yourself across the desk with the agent, examining the toaster – the jewelry had been confiscated, however.  Carlos' eyes are red and puffy now, more so by far than they'd seemed when he'd removed his glasses less than an hour ago.  Your stomach churns unpleasantly.  Details are simple... nothing more than what you uncovered at the site, until a desk attendant enters the room frantically.  After a few minutes, Carlos sneezes, and suddenly picks up a tissue, wiping blood away from his nose.  “Huh... dammit. Gross.” He winces.  “Weather must be dryer than it seems...”<br/><br/>“Agent – you and Misses Jori have to go to basement level three immediately.” She stammers, standing against the wall on the opposite end of the room, not taking another step.  Carlos' eyes go wide only briefly, then lock to yours and relax again, as though to address the confusion that may very well be showing on your face now.<br/><br/>“Basement level three.”  Carlos says... and as if on cue another drop of blood spatters the table.  “Arcane decontamination and quarantine.”<br/><br/>((Allright, I am so sorry.  It's not that I forgot so much as I thought I had reposted this after the portal was reset over that spammer.))