RP Menaechmi



Samantha watched as her twin Sebastian started toward the woman sitting at the bar. Her blue hair shifted back over her shoulder briefly as she threw back a shot. She shook her head and stood up. If she had known that Sebby, her brother with the sexual history of a Catholic priest, would actually listen to her when she said “if you’re just going to stare at her all night, you might as well go talk to her”, she never would have suggested it.

On one hand, she was happy that her brother was showing interest in literally anything. On the other hand, that interest was in a woman with blue and black hair, curling floral tattoos, and combat boots as heavy as her own. That was definitely not what she assumed his type would end up being. It didn’t help that sitting next to her was… someone. With the long braids and the halter top turtleneck, she wanted to say it was a girl. But with the slant of the jaw and the physicality, she wanted to say it was a boy. Either way, it was underage. Either way, the woman was talking to them, a hand on their arm as they spoke.

This was either going to go over well, or it was going to crash and burn. Sammy didn’t really want to see either happen. She had no lack of faith in her brother. She knew he could smooth talk like her, and they had both used charm and flirting as a way to get what they needed. She just didn’t want to witness him flirting intently with a woman. The mere thought of having to witness that made her gag.

She started toward the door, and as she reached the entrance of the motel’s bar, the door opened and a young girl walked in. She looked at the curly haired girl as she walked past and toward the bar. Despite the fact that the girl was at least half a foot taller than her, Sammy knew that this was an actual child. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen at most. What was with all the children in the bar tonight?

She stepped outside, shaking her head. Her long, feathery curls bounced in perfect coils beneath her kerchief. Once outside, she felt like she could breathe again. While she stood outside, breathing in the crisp and cool fall air, something on the other side of the motel caught her eye. It was too far for most normal people to see, but Sammy’s eyes were better than most. She focused her eyes in on the shape and narrowed them. It was a figure in dark clothes, scaling up the fire escape. And as it moved, her eyes caught the shine of thick liquid on his clothes.


Now that was what she was talking about. She smiled, sharp, and tilted her head to the side like a bird. She was going to need her hammer for this one. With that, she headed toward the outer staircase to go up to her room and retrieve her vigilante kit.​
Sebastian had spotted the girl the second they had entered the hotel bar. She stood out just on her own with her hair and how she was dressed, she definitely was receiving looks from other men around. Sebastian couldn't keep his gaze away, this wasn't attraction - well it was, he was very attracted - but there was another feeling. A yearning, a literal physical attraction, as if there was a magnet pulling him towards this woman. His chest stirred, his heart thumped, these were familiar feelings, as if he was stalking a doe and about to sink his claws into her flank, but he didn't want to eat her... not like that anyway.

“If you’re just going to stare at her all night, you might as well go talk to her."

Sebastian looked at his twin, raising his eyebrows with a grin. Sammy, of all people, would know what it meant if Sebastian formed a romantic bond with someone; especially if it got physical - and Sebastian definitely wanted it to get physical - they knew each other's emotions forward and back. Seb's obsessive nature and loyalty instincts had told them that whoever he mated with, it would be mating for life. There could only ever be one for him, and they figured Sam was much the same. Sebastian figured that sis was just teasing him, and wasn't seriously suggesting that he go pick up some woman. But as Sebastian looked back at her, he knew exactly what the feeling inside was telling him. Yeah, he'd have that one. So he left his sister with a smile and a wink.

Sebastian beelined right to the woman, and stood near to her leaning on the bar as she knocked back a shot. He smiled confidently at her. "That's bad for your health you know."
Last edited:
Oscar was still buzzed when he dragged himself through the window of his room. Thank god the hotel wasn’t up to code – he didn’t want to trigger any fire alarms when he opened the window from the escape. It really wasn’t great to leave Dot in a building that didn’t have accurate fire protection, but judging by the fact that his room was empty, leaving Dot alone at all was a bad enough idea to cancel out that caveat.

He’d worry about his little sister in a minute. If he had to guess, she’d be down at the hotel bar, trying to convince the bartender that she was definitely the age on her fake ID. Again. She’d come skulking back when she found out her efforts were for nothing, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her for the few days it’d take him to sleep off…

He pulled out the wallet, the hunt already a blur. He’d gotten in the habit of keeping IDs. It wasn’t good to keep evidence, but he wanted to remember their names afterward, and it’d be less likely to be found chucked in a dumpster ten miles away than on the route of a crime scene.

Cobb, Ben Tucker. A relatively normal name by his standards, especially for someone who he’d lured into a mugging. Oscar licked his lips, the memory still strong as he closed the window behind him. The feeling of bone under teeth, the scent of fear. Bastard had it coming, even if he hadn’t had time to do his normal amount of research. It wasn’t like the Marshal would know the difference.

He tossed the wallet onto the bed and kept moving. Humming gently, he found his way into the hotel bathroom, and pulled the hard orange soap out of his duffel bag. He’d learned the trick of using industrial-grade stuff to scrub out bloodstains a while back. He closed the door behind him and locked it, stripped off his layers of ruined cotton and denim – cheap, easily replaceable clothes, specifically worn to hunt. He wouldn’t risk one of his American Idiot shirts for this.

Then he pulled out his phone and put his playlist on shuffle before starting the water.

“I’m the son of rage and love – the Jesus of Suburbia –”

With her red and black suit exposed to the night, Phoenix felt more like herself than she ever did with it off. She pulled her mask into place as she sat on the roof of the motel. Her hammer was strapped to her hip, and as she made her way across the roof to the other side of the building, it bounced against her thigh. The metal weapon was heavily wrapped in burnt and peeling tape, and it seemed to melt together in the spots where her hands would grip it tight.

She ran quietly and lightly across the roof, her hollow bones allowing her to move without a sound. She dropped down to the edge of the roof and did a practiced spin and drop onto the outer edge of the walkway, just catching the railing behind her. She pushed up, swung, and landed inside the fire escape in front of the window of the room she had seen the man disappear into. She looked at it for a moment and then carefully pressed her fingers to it, pressed in, and slid it up.

It moved without so much as a sound, and she slipped inside, bypassing a line of red where the man must have wrapped his hand around the window. This was definitely the right room. But when she got inside, there was no one to be seen. The shower was running, and when she gently tried the handle, she found it locked. Blaring away behind the door was what sounded like Green Day.

… Was that Holiday? Was he singing? She backed off and placed her hand flat on the door. He was definitely singing. Well, there was no point interrupting what was likely going to be his last shower as a free man. She sighed and pulled back over to one of the twin beds in the room and sat on it.

She could wait.​

Lapis had felt eyes on her for a while while she was talking to Seven. For a brief moment, she had pulled her hand back to give them space to work only for it to turn out that their guy wasn’t even here. That had been disappointing enough that she had thrown back a second shot, her hand returning to Seven’s arm to help neutralize their powers. Then, from her left, a voice came in, low and smooth.

She turned to face the guy, to indicate toward her hand on Seven’s arm as an excuse to avoid dealing with people that night, when she stopped. Oh. She looked the man over slowly. Big as a car, with beautiful red hair in a stylized beard and short ponytail, and golden eyes that flashed amber in the low light. She flicked her tongue against the inside of her mouth and turned a little further toward the man, a smile on her face.

“Oh, is it now? Kind of a funny first thing to say to someone at a bar, don’tcha think?”
There was someone in the room. It wasn’t Dot. Dot wouldn’t have come in through the window – he would’ve heard the hall door close if they’d used the door – and Dot definitely would’ve said something after trying the knob. Something sarcastic.

The buzz had finally died, leaving him warm and tired under the shower water. He really didn’t want to have to leave a crime scene in a room he’d rented in his real – well, “real” name. Todd Oscar Fowler was a name the Marshal would recognize if he was sent to investigate, after all. That limited his options, then, as he finished conditioning his hair so it didn’t get brittle after the industrial-grade scrubbing he’d subjected it to. He never stopped singing, the off hum of someone following a song blindly while they went through the motions of daily life.

Under the surface, he was thinking. Who had followed him? Had they followed him? He would’ve heard them. He was pretty sure nobody had seen him when he got back – although, admittedly, he’d still been riding the high of the hunt. He kicked himself for letting go that much. Now not only was his identity in jeopardy, but Dot could come back any minute to a stranger sitting on the beds.

He needed to act.

The shower turned off. He grabbed two towels, wrapped one around his waist, and started using the second to dry his hair as he padded softly to the door, bare feet almost silent on the tile. He listened, but more importantly, as the shower steam cleared, he took a deep breath through his nose. Cinnamon tickled his nostrils. Feminine, his brain said about the scent. He blinked once or twice, then exhaled in a sigh and glared at the door.

“You have until I can find pants to go back out that window you left open,” he announced to the room, in a gruff voice he’d quickly thought to borrow from a recent victim. Older, more authoritative, and misleading about his appearance, he was absolutely sure. Ignoring, of course, the fact that he’d just been singing in his real voice.

“No can do, champ. You’re just going to have to find those pants. See, not every day I find someone at the same motel I’m at climbing a fire escape covered in blood, but I like to see these things through. Why don’t you come out and we’ll have a little talk, eh?”

Her voice rang out crystal clear and falsely sweet. She was surprised he knew she was there, but maybe she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought she was. Either way, she started kicking one of her legs out, swinging it back and forth in the space between the bed and the floor. Of which there was plenty, given her height.

She stood up at the end of her sentence and crossed her arms in front of her chest, letting them rest just under the curve of her suit. Her ruffled curls fell perfectly back from the mask that held them back and out of her eyes. She had undone the buttons on her holster while she had been sitting, so the handle to the hammer was easily accessible should he charge her upon walking out that door.

“Maybe we can talk this out and I don’t have to crush your skull today, yeah?” She looked at the wallet on the other bed and gently flipped it open. The face didn’t match the one she had so clearly seen from the ground only fifteen minutes earlier. She tsked a few times, and then in a soft and creeping voice, “You’re definitely not Mr. Ben Cobb. So who are you?”
He strained his ears while she spoke, listening to her voice, her inflection. Newscaster accent, youngish side – 20s, at the latest. Roughly his age, probably older than Dot. He heard something soft pop four times, almost like metal snap buttons. He licked his lips again, this time out of nervous habit. She sounded like the type he could easily take in a fight, but so did Dot. Nobody had that kind of confidence without something to back it up.

He did let his mouth quirk up into a little smile as she mentioned he wasn’t Ben, though. He could be Ben, if he really wanted to be. But she didn’t need to know that. He swallowed, then let his vocal cords shift back to normal.

“I go by Nick Oscar these days.” He didn’t. “It’s pretty bold of you to decide to harass a guy while he’s in the shower about something you really don’t have any evidence for. And jumping straight to skull-crushing – that’s taking things a little fast, isn’t it?”

Listen again. Listen for changes in breathing, for shifts in weight on the floorboard now that she was standing, try to pinpoint her location. Listen to her tone, and use his nose to tell him if she was being honest or not. Something in his gut said to be careful, and he had a tendency to trust his gut. After all, it was his deciding organ for a lot of things.

“Most people who want to talk would be willing to put the head-smashing implement down before I unlock this door. A show of goodwill, and all.”

Bernadette was used to keeping herself busy while Todd was hunting. She didn't particularly feel the need to supervise his meals, and she'd gotten in the habit of finding something to use as an excuse in case Dad started asking questions. Movie tickets, a coffee shop receipt, or whatever. But they were traveling for now, and so she didn't need to cover for her brother.

They were staying at a nice hotel, and it would be a shame to let the bar go unused. Dot never let herself get drunk, but she did enjoy pina coladas. She headed through the bar, taking off her sunglasses, passing a bushy-haired redhead, and more importantly, spotted Lapis near the counter. Being legally an adult now, Todd couldn't do anything about her joining Slate. A little ways away, one of Lapis's associates was sitting at a table.

Dot slid her fake ID across the bar, and ordered a drink, using her powers to make herself subtly older. By the time she was going to speak to Lapis, she found a large redheaded man speaking to her. Irritating. She toyed with the idea of making him go blind, but decided against it.

Dot turned to the person with Lapis. He was pretty cute, with dark skin and long hair. Not usually her type, but that didn't matter. She sipped her drink, "Wanna grab a table? I needed to talk to Lapis but it looks like she's....occupied."
Last edited:
When he saw her eyes, he was a goner. Silver discs that shined like the moon, lighting the path in a dark place and guiding him home. He couldn't help let his eyes soak in the rest pf her, and he made no effort of hiding that, but he came right back to her gaze. The feeling inside stirred, a warm and curious feeling. Sebastian knew there was no point fighting it. He chose this.

"Is it?" Sebastian said, grinning. "Would you prefer 'hey what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?' or maybe 'do you have a name, or can I just call you "mine"? I've got a few of these, or we can skip to the part where I get your name and I buy you a drink" he winked. "I'm Sebastian."

Lapis smiled, and with a quick glance at Seven, let go of his arm. He’d be fine without her help for a little while, and he was more than used to her behavior by then. And after all, it wasn’t every day that someone hit on her in such a playful manner. It was refreshing. She adjusted the cuffs of her leather jacket, flipping them further up to reveal delicate wrists as she spoke. “Sebastian. You can call me Lapis. I’ll take a blackberry sangria.”

The bartender who had been checking her out sighed softly and started mixing the drink, looking between the pair of them. She could hardly be bothered to look his way when this mountain of a man was sitting in front of her though. She’d locked in on Sebastian, and nothing shy of a fucking emergency or the kid they were after walking through the front door was going to make her put her attention somewhere else.

“Tell me, big guy… what makes you worth my attention tonight?” She smiled, sharp and slow. She popped one of her pretzels into her mouth. She bit down on it slowly and then gave a close-lipped smile as she chewed. Everything about the action, despite its normalcy at face value, was clearly meant to be sensual as she ran her eyes over his shoulders.​

“Y’know what, I’ll give you that, Nick Oscar. That one is fair.” Phoenix stood up and moved with her hammer to the window. There, she sat it down, without so much as a fight. She wouldn’t need it if this man was truly dangerous, but his low and soft voice told her… something. Something about this made her feel safe to leave the weapon by the window.

She walked back over toward the door of the bathroom, and as she walked, placing her feet precisely but loosely, so he would be able to hear her approach, she spoke. “But then, most people wouldn’t give fake names either. Be careful what you say to me, I can smell lies. So let’s try this again. What’s your name?”

She leaned against the wall across from the door. She left just enough space to move past her into the rest of the room, but blocked the space between the two doors, effectively trapping him in the room. She licked her black-painted lips, where the matte lipstick had left them a touch dry. She had a strange feeling about this. His vibrations were all off. And besides that, she was feeling… something. The voice was stirring something in her.​
Ozzy listened to her footsteps, back and forth across the floor. She was deliberately loud on the return trip, but she’d lost a significant amount of weight. The hammer she’d been talking about was no joke, then. If she was willing to leave it, she was probably fast.

Slate? He took a deep breath in through his nose, and exhaled it in a sigh to cover it up. Through the door, he couldn’t pick up a lot. Cinnamon, with traces of… ginger, maybe? Surface. Notable, though, was the lack of black pepper. Just thinking about that made him curl his lip before he caught himself.

Not Slate, then. She’d mentioned she saw him covered in blood. A concerned citizen, then. Vigilante maybe. Meta, if she was willing to confront him directly in the space of his hotel room, though that wasn’t guaranteed. He pulled his sweatpants up and tied them off as she stopped on the other side of the door.

“You caught me. It’s just Oscar.” It was close enough. He placed his hand on the doorknob, and found himself rising up to the balls of his feet has he braced himself. “Your turn, tit for tat. What’s your name?”

She shifted as she felt him moving. The room was dark, and as good as her vision was, seeing in the dark wasn’t one of Phoenix’s many skills. She ran her hand up the wall between herself and the outer door and flipped the light switch up. It lit the room in a soft, almost dim light. Better that than something blight and blinding, she supposed. She turned her attention back to the door as the handle jiggled just the slightest. He was holding it on the other side.

“Just Oscar then. I’m just Phoenix. I’ll tell you more if you come on out of there. How about it, hmmm? Or are you too shy to step out here? Do I have to come in?” Her voice stayed light and flirty, all the way up until the end. The flirtiness never left, but her voice did take on a darker tone as she threatened to kick the door in.

She licked her lips again and watched the door, her arms crossed, but her body tensed and ready to spring. If he tried to rush her, she could jump and catch him off guard. If he tried to make a break for it, she could trip him up and pin him to the ground. Whatever he did, she was ready to make a move and cut him off. She was ready for him.

There was a strange energy in her veins now. Something was different here, and she didn’t know what. There was just something that was making her heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with adrenaline. She could feel her pulse beating hard and picking up, filling her with an almost shaky anticipation. Something was about to happen. Something was about to happen. Something was about to happen, and she was ready for it.​
The light flicked on in the next room, which dashed his hopes that she wouldn’t notice the blood on his pants. The alternative was a towel around his waist, though, and that was way less comfortable if this was going to be a fight. Same amount of fabric, different amount of mobility.

His hand tightened on the door. He had to be ready for whatever reaction she’d have, because otherwise, she’d be kicking the door in. Of course, if he was going to be paying for damages anyway, a ruined door wasn’t going to make much difference. But he was still hoping to avoid that. The flirtation in her voice was one extreme or the other, and he wasn’t exactly going to cut a good first impression – not with his fresh, short antlers, or his black-rimmed eyes, or his bloodstained pants. But maybe she’d keep up the flirting just to get more information, before jumping to conclusions.

One could always hope.

“Nobody’s ever called me ‘shy’ before,” he found himself purring, starting to turn the knob, “As much as I’d love to hear you say it again... ”

The door opened. He was tense, up on the balls of his feet, and his eyes were at once on Phoenix. Meta vigilante for sure, mask and all. The scent of cinnamon was much stronger, mixed with apples, jasmine, and vanilla. Overall sweet with that little kick at the end. Like him, she was braced, both ready for the other to move first; he wouldn’t take the bait, but he’d be prepared.

Lapis’s hand on his arm gave Super Seven a brief reprieve from the intensity of the world around him. She could simulate a quiet room for him, let everything go still until it was actually time to do his job. He’d been brought because he might be able to notice the kid who could slip past Sulphur, or even Malachite, undetected. They’d both seen him leave. Tall, dark coat, dark hair worn long and heavy. Very faintly visible velveted antlers on his forehead. Lapis had pointed him out. With a comment about being good pickings if he had a couple more pounds on him. Something about cheekbones that could cut glass.

That made Seven uncomfortable. It made him uncomfortable for a lot of reasons. Lapis would flirt with anything, sure, but the way he moved through the lobby, the same sharpness she seemed to like in his angles, had gotten Seven’s anxiety up. Which was why he’d needed Lapis’s hand on his arm.

Of course, now that he’d probably be back soon, Lapis got distracted. Her hand moved off his arm, and the world bloomed back into existence. His eyesight sucked, and with muffled touch, his hearing was bad, too. He knew enough ASL to get by, and could make out vague shapes enough to communicate, but now that wouldn’t be needed. Sounds, words, movements, body heat, all of it came back into his periphery, brushing up against his bare arms and causing him to shiver, just a little bit. He blinked a few times before he became actually aware of two people.

The first one was Lapis’s distraction. A huge man, burning warm, overly hairy. His voice had a weird undertone, the slightest growl below his words Seven wouldn’t actually be able to hear without the extra senses. He decided to leave that alone, since there was no way for him to address that.

The other was the girl who sat down next to him.

“Sure, why not.” He spoke a little softly, but one look at Lapis told him she wouldn’t notice as long as he stayed in the room. Or maybe she wouldn’t notice at all. His voice was higher than most young men his age, and usually just added to the confusion about his gender – one reason why he’d normally go with nonbinary pronouns. It was easier.

As for the girl, she was… unusual. Calmer than most people who sat down at the bar to talk to Lapis, collected, self-assured. She didn’t seem like she wanted to flirt, which was a relief. He smiled at her as he got up, claiming the plush jumping spider backpack off the back of his chair. The softness of the bag’s fur was reassuring to him, even when his hands weren’t right on it. Without looking around, he made a beeline for an empty table with nobody around it.

Hey, if she was looking for Lapis, she needed to expect her companion to be a little bit odd in his own right.

He was not what she expected up close. He was taller than he had looked scaling the fire escape, and his hair was longer wet than the fluffy cloud she remembered it being. It hung in spiral curls, perfect tight ringlets, down to his shoulders. What she hadn’t seen at the distance, despite her good eyes, were the antlers on his head. They were maybe four or five inches long, fuzzy, and curling back over his head. He was also far skinnier than she had expected as well, and shirtless. Very shirtless. She could count his ribs as easily as she could see his muscles flexing under his skin.

But then she locked eyes with him, and everything stopped. She took in a sharp breath, a gasp of air in through barely parted lips. They were such a soft and light blue against the black, like the reflection of light at dawn on icy lakes, where you could see the dark depths somewhere down below. And she found herself drowning beneath their frozen waters. That energy she had felt suddenly coalesced into chains that bound her to him. In the span of a heartbeat, she went from Phoenix, who belonged to no one but herself, to Sam Walsh, who would irrevocably belong to Oscar.


At the same moment, an alarm bell suddenly screamed in her head at the sight of those eyes. She could barely hear the blaring siren over her own heartbeat as it fixed itself to align with his own. She could feel his pulse through the floor, raised by adrenaline. She focused on it for a second and realized that whatever had just happened with her, it hadn’t happened with him. Still, she couldn’t help the way all the tension left her body, the way her lips parted in surprise, or the way her eyes went wide with wonder and fascination.

He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Prettier than a sunrise in a field of flowers, but sharper than any claws or teeth she’d ever been scratched with. She felt a shiver pass through her, bringing her temperature up to warm the room. She could feel the fire under her skin, dancing and reaching for him. That was when Sam Walsh made a stupid choice. She pushed her mask up, revealing her freckled face and black-painted eyes and lips.

The sharpness of him, that readiness to fight, the intelligence in those animal-like eyes, it all fascinated her. She could feel herself move without thought. She pushed the mask up to the top of her head, her flushed cheeks on display. She straightened out, drawing herself up to her full height of almost five feet and three inches. Her whole body seemed to relax and untense in his presence.

All the while she ignored the siren in her head, the one that screamed “danger.”

“Shit. H-hi.”
Dot noted his smile, and followed him to an empty table, her pina colada in hand. She sat down and crossed a leg over her knee. She was wearing tastefully ripped jeans, combat boots and a faded pink flannel. She hoped the man wouldn't find it odd, but she donned her sunglasses again. The bar was brighter than she expected.

"I like your backpack. it's really fun." She said, sipping her drink and gesturing to the soft spider backpack. It wasn't a lie. She always loved creative accessories like that, and it showed he had a strange confidence to him, even if he did seem a bit shy and withdrawn. "I'm Bernadette Snow-Owl, by the way" She said, giving the name on her fake ID. "Does Lapis usually leave you alone like this? Not that it's any of my business..."

Dot knew Ozzy would be disappointed in her, asking about Slate and all. He always objected to her desire to become a vigilante. She was the little sister he wanted to keep safe, but she wanted to help people, and she couldnt exactly get through a police academy without outing herself as a meta, truly using her abilities the best she could. Hell, she'd probably scare everyone in Law Enforcement if they found out, and certainly nothing she did would ever be considered credible- not when she could put images in peoples heads.

"I was just hoping to talk to someone."

He didn’t comment on the sunglasses. He was more than used to accommodations, and had spent most of the night wishing for the heavy sweaters he usually wore to protect his senses from the outside world. The halter top was necessary, though. More surface area for his touch meant he’d have a better view of the room. Though, all he was seeing right now was that Lapis didn’t even seem to notice him leaving, and that the guy they were looking for definitely wasn’t here.

He smiled and ran his fingers through the spider’s fur again when she expressed she liked it. He hung it on the back of his chair and had a seat with his knees together, then leaned on his elbows. He couldn’t lose focus on the room, even if Lapis was letting herself get distracted. Their guy was dangerous, and could be a problem if they missed him coming back in.

“I’m Sam,” he said, with a little smile. His current ID said ‘Sam,’ anyway, but he tended to use different names that couldn’t really be gendered. These days it drew less attention to not belong in either binary category. “Lapis is… well, she kinda does her own thing. Give her a few minutes. If she goes upstairs it’ll probably be better to try to catch her at breakfast tomorrow.”

He paused, a real hesitation as he scanned the room again. No Oscar Snow-Owl. He focused on Bernadette, though his eyes still seemed a little distant. He understood all the textures of her clothes, both the materials and the make, before starting to create an image of her face while they talked.

“You can talk to me, sure. Since you’re calling her Lapis, I’m guessing this is business related. You might want to phrase things a little bit carefully. Never know who’s listening.”
Dot nodded, and leaned back in her chair, wondering how to talk about this. For one she’d never had a real job in her life so to speak. She also didn’t know how to talk about her abilities. Ozzy and Dad had did their best but it wasn’t something they talked in depth about. Or at least more than necessary.

She also wasn’t wholly sure about Sam just yet. He seemed nice though, “Well, I uh…am aware of your guys work and was inquiring about…employment opportunities.”

Dot slurped her drink. This was stupid. By tomorrow afternoon Ozzy and her would already be on the road to some other hotel. He didn’t even know she was doing this…

“I can give you my number if that helps. I don’t know when I’m leaving here.”