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Having done a few ten counts to reign in her anger, AndrAIa moves to assist Enzo and Coreen with the foodstuffs as they arrive. Spotting the box in Coreen's hands, she quirks a brow.

"What's with the game?"

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Coreen shrugs, bemusedly. "Bar. I think she knows we need a distraction that's going to take a while and, well, I can't think of a board game that takes longer."

She sets it on an empty table just for now.

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Demeter isn't quite sure what Bar is thinking with that but it will distract them so she releases some of the vines at Cruella's feet and pushes her over to the table,

"Sit there."

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If looks could kill several of them would be..well, maybe not dead but at least in pain. But she moves along gracefully like a nice little hostage and sits.

She may or may not be plotting her escape and their deaths.

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a1enzo

"What?" Enzo asks her. "Did you want to play, too? I call the dog," he adds to Coreen.

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"Dog for Enzo, boat for me. Anyone else got any preference as to their little metal selves?"

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AndrAIa glances over the pieces, absently snagging a Paradox from its plate.

"I'll take the hat."

Edited Date: 2009-06-29 05:00 am (UTC)

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Demeter has never encountered this game and still doesn't understand the shift so pulls out some wheat to weave as they play.

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This has got to be the weirdest gig I've ever had.

Shorty finds the closet Cruella told all of them about in the briefing and he notices that it's slightly ajar as she predicted. He carefully peeks through the door.. after all, the thought of anything besides clothes being in the over-sized broom closet makes his head hurt. When the smell of alcohol of the combined sounds of clinking glasses and many people talking waver through the crack he shakes his head.

Guess she wasn't as crazy as I thought. The Boss said she wasn't.

He stands up, sticks his hands in his pockets, and gets his best Upset Teen face on. He opens the door and walks through as if he knows what he's doing. He masks his surprise well, hiding his eyes under the baseball cap while taking in the surroundings. He spots Cruella immediately, and the group of people he suppose are watching her. He sits close enough to be able to observe but hopefully far enough not to be noticed. They look very intent on their board game; hopefully that will work in his favor. So far the occasional cry of outrage at a dice roll seems to be the most important topic on their minds.

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It takes a moment for the sound of the door squeaking open to register though the excitement of someone landing on a hotel-occupied space on the board, and by the time she snaps her head up, she just barely manages to catch the door settling back into place.

The Game sprite tenses slightly, her eyes scanning the area. Something isn't quite right here.

Edited Date: 2009-07-03 05:11 am (UTC)

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Coreen notices AndrAIa tense, and looks around herself. "What is it?"

She turns to look; her back to the door.

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AndrAIa's eyes narrow and she continues to look around.

"Someone came through that door. The only ones who should be coming through is the rescue teams.

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Demeter turns towards the door, she was partially facing it but the game was rather more absorbing than she expected,

"Did you see who it was?"

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She shakes her head, mentally berating herself for letting her guard down over a silly Game.

"No. I heard it open and I just caught it settling back to where it was."

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a1enzo

Enzo, forgetting his excitement over hotel monies, mutters a word he's not supposed to use. "Let's just... stay frosty, everyone."

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Well this could have gone better.

Shorty waits several minutes before heading over to where the others are busy looking paranoid while also trying to play Monopoly. He has the Emo Teen look down.

"Is that some kind of game you are playing?"

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Demeter looks him over and holds in a sigh, she does not have the energy to give to anyone else,

"Yes, its called Monopoly and who are you?"

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He adds in an bit of Living On The Streets for extra effect. He sniffs and seems to puff up defensively. "People call me Shorty. What's it to ya?"

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Oh, Coreen has run into this type before. It never turns out well. These brat street kids are always trouble. She eyes him.

She turns to him, picking up the same tone as he's speaking in, "We're wonderin' what a upstanding guy such as yourself would care about our little private party."

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