<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/8b/VictorDoe2.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Victor Rory<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Living Room.<br/><strong>Aimed at:</strong>Jim Beem. Everyone.<br/><br/>He arrived just like he meant to arrive, walking and slowly making his way to the front of the gate on feet. He began this journey three days ago, his duffel bag slung on his shoulder as the other hand carried his Martin he never went anywhere without. Sunglasses tucked atop his nose even at the time of the evening. He looked at the mansion and took a deep breath.<strong>“Blessed be the Lord, my strength… who teaches me fingers to probe, and me hands to grasp. Amen.”</strong>There seemed to be a bit of commotion inside as he rolled in, nothing Rory wasn’t used to.<br/><br/>His leather jacket hugged his vest as his frame made his way past the entrance to the good looking men and women standing in awe of the divine figure of Jim Beem.<br/><br/><strong>“Yo!”</strong>Rory called out, putting his duffel bag on the ground with rest of the bags and equipment.<strong>“I can smell sex in the air. I also smell a pro.”</strong>He smiled softly and slowly made his way to where the gentleman stood.<strong>“It’s an honor and a pleasure.”</strong>His Scottish drawl down to a whisper, never rising above that volume unless he was drunk or it was deemed absolutely necessary.<br/><br/>He looked at others and nodded.<strong>“Yo.”</strong>He whispered to everyone around; a holy word almost divine like, he had deemed, for nothing came close to a salutation which spoke as clear as that in Rory’s mind.