<div class="floatleft">(http://chadwickmodels.com/wp-content/uploads/Todd-Finlay-81.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Thomas Malcolm<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Senior Copywriter<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>August 1st, Early Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Game Room<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Pictured<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Charlotte, OPEN<strong>Mentioned:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>N/A<hr/><br/>The place was remarkable. Well planned, well built. It seemed like a great deal of thought had been put into the place. It hadn't been planned as a hotel, though. That much was certain. Somebody had put a lot of personal touches to it, made it pleasing to his or her eye instead of what would appeal to a wider audience, and thus made it unique, special in its own way. Thomas had found himself wandering through the halls after Richards' speech, inspecting the details, wondering just what the person was thinking when they decided that they wanted something that particular way.<br/><br/>He eventually found himself trailing into a game room. Various setups were put in place, all pristine, like they hadn't been touched before he had arrived. He wondered if it was the case. If everything was actually new and they were the first ones to encounter them, or if the staff here was just that damn good that when they cleaned stuff up, they really went the extra mile. Either way, he made a mental note to be generous while tipping here.<br/><br/>He paused in his inspection of the room when he realized that he wasn't alone in the room. He couldn't see much of the person at first. She, definitely a she. And she was fairly short. Not that he minded, he mused as he watched her lean over the pool table to play with the cue balls. Thomas liked to think of himself as the kind of man that appreciated beauty wherever he found it, and whenever too. He tilted his head, smiling a little bit as he heard her make noises as she broke the triangle with her hands. He bit his lip, walking slowly over to the pool table. Beauty needed to be appreciated. Even if the beauty wasn't someone's particular favorite, or type, it was beautiful nonetheless.<br/><br/>Although this kind of beauty was definitely the kind that he could stand to appreciate a bit more closely.<br/><br/>Thomas crossed the table and came around so that he was facing her, bowing a bit so that he was in her view, leaning over as she was," I'm... pretty sure that's not how you play. Not an expert though, so don't quote me on that," It was a bad joke, so he smiled instead.<br/><br/>"Hi," He came around the table again, closer to her and offering his hand," The name's Thomas."