<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a0/SamMask.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>Sam "Mr. Clean," Bathroom Attendant</em></span></span><br/><strong>Where: </strong>Backyard<br/><strong>When: </strong>Friday, Dusk<br/><strong>Who: </strong>Moloch, OPEN<br/><strong>Status: </strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>It was a long day of cleaning, but Sam was thankful. The salary he made working at the club was enough to pay his bills (sometimes a bit more), and the free membership to lounge around during his time off was worth not making it into the NFL like he originally planned. People appreciated him here for more than just his physical skill, but also for his physical form. Most of his time was spent in the bathrooms. Attending to the rich male and female customers who came in. Offer a squirt of something here. A squirt of another thing there. Another part of his tasks were cleaning up the 'messy' adventures of a lot of the club associates, but he never complained. Sometimes even humming his favorite song (Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy) while watching a surface sparkle and shine after he was done.<br/><br/>His hands were calloused, a little dry from all the cleaning--even if he had just placed some lotion on them, and he felt the dry sensation while running his hands through his short, cropped dirty blonde hair. Smoothing the hairs out to the correct position once he was finished. He had been stuck inside all day. Perfumes and colognes from various associates still plagued his nose, and he needed some fresh air. His favorite area was the garden, because usually it was fairly isolated from a large crowd of people. And today... well today Sam wanted to feel relaxed.<br/><br/>The smell of cigarette smoke filled his nostrils, and he glanced around the garden. Noticing that a stoic and strong looking man, with a mask that only hinted at the power and intensity that must have been hidden inside of him. Already Sam could only imagine that the long horns protruding out from the sides of his mask were not to compensate for a lack of something, but to inform people of who he was with one glance. Sam, who had originally been looking for a relaxing evening, suddenly wiped away all his plans and impulsively went to approach the masked man. Smoothing the wrinkles of his own black cape against his hard pectoral muscles, before he stepped beside Moloch and cleared his throat.<br/><br/>"<strong>Your mask. It's...</strong>" he began to say as he turned to face the man with the long horns, the slick black mask, and the toned body. Suddenly Sam lacked the words that he wanted to say. Instead, he felt his tongue push up against the back of his teeth, looking foolish as the words to describe it escaped him. "<strong>Its... woha,</strong>" he finally said, falling short on how he really felt about how well manicured the stoic man was.