FANPORT OVERFLOW LOG

[maskormods]

WHO: ImPorts!
WHERE: Heropa's Convention Centre.
WHEN: April 14-16, from 9 AM - 12 AM every day.
WHAT: Registration is in motion alongside FanPort, the most popular imPort convention around! Come on in and see imPort-led panels, the artist's alley, cosplayers, and more! If you have any questions, or wish to amend the way we have written up your characters' panels, let us know here! The original log can be found HERE.
WARNINGS: None anticipated; please let us know if this should be changed.

Comments

Six

[shifting]

((continued from here))

[truth be told, even Sam is starting to get a little overwhelmed. They've been going at it a while now, and he could do with some lunch and a cup of coffee. He'd also thought he'd be use to the attention by now, the naked interest in where he's come from and who he is and what he can do, but the questions are just as strange the him the firs time they're asked as the twentieth.

He smiles and poses with a woman dressed as Power Girl for a photo, his shoulders stiff, and gives her and her friend a wave as the two walk off. It's about that moment that he catches scent of the imPort who's been waiting so patiently in line, and damn if that doesn't have his head turning in quick surprise.

Surprise which is apparently warranted, unless that's one damn elaborate costume Six is wearing. Sam tries not to stare.]

Hey, there. You enjoyin' the convention so far? ...Seem to have some fans already. [with a slight nod to the gaggle of teenagers giggling behind him.] I'm guessin' you could do with a taste or two of wine. How 'bout I start you with a white and we'll just go down the line?

[irassible]

Eh? What?

[ Six blinks up at Sam, caught off-guard by two things: it's already his turn, and there's apparently people staring at him again. He'd been very engrossed in his magazine.

He glances over his shoulder and immediately scowls. ] Oh.

[ Huffily, he puts his book away and keeps his eyes on Sam...though the tips of his ears twitch. It's been a week or so, but his voice sounds...familiar? Have they spoken before? ]

Yes, that's fine.

[shifting]

[Sam is wondering the same thing, frowning some as that voice itches in the back of his mind. He's pretty sure he'd remember seeing a face quite like Six's, though, and not just because of the man's bright blue eyes.

Christ, even his ears twitch. Is he staring? Shit, he's probably staring.]

Here you are. Pinot Grigio to start. [he slides it over, licking his lips as he tries to puzzle through this odd sense of deja vu.] You much of a wine drinker?

[irassible]

Spirits are my preferred alcohol, but I'll never turn my nose up at wine.

[ Which is to say: yes. He'll take the glass and spin it lightly and slowly, tilting his head down to take a nice, deep sniff, half to get a sampling of the aroma and half to avoid looking back at anybody that's staring at him, Sam included. He can spare brainpower for figuring out the vague mystery of him once he's had at least a few samples.

Six takes an equally slow sip, not quite able to keep his ears from moving again, perking up a little from pleasure. ]

[shifting]

Tell you the truth, [he says in a lower voice, leaning in like it's actually a big, dangerous secret] I am too. 'Cept it's probably best they didn't put me in a distillery instead, 'cause I can't say I'd have enough room in my place for all the bottles I'd want t'bring home.

[the glass Six samples will have a very citrus nose but a more floral taste, light, crisp, and a little acidic. Sam watches for a reaction - eyes once again traveling to those ears, Jesus Christ if that's not the weirdest damn thing - before he tilts his head, curious.]

...Have we talked before? I'm gettin' the weirdest sense that we have. Maybe on the Network? I'm Sam, if that helps. Sam Merlotte.

[irassible]

[ Confound it Sam he's trying to concentrat--

Sam.

Six looks up abruptly, recognition lighting in his eyes - and, once again, and now entirely out of his control, his ears flicking up and forward. By now, the crowd behind him has figured out that he's the real deal, but he has yet to notice. ]

Sam Merlotte...with the bar and grill!

Yes, we've spoken, I'm Six.

[shifting]

- The cook, right?

[ah. That thing about the guy not knowing how social media works... makes a whole lot more sense now. Which might be a little species-ist of him, to assume a cat-person's civilization couldn't come up with its own form of Twitter (Meowster? Pawbook?), but a man can only be so open upon a first meeting.]

How's, uh, how's the goin'? I mean have you gone lookin' for work in that field, or are you still runnin' that website?

[irassible]

I've made a few attempts at the--website. I assume it's going well.

[ He has no idea if it is. As far as he knows, a submission simply vanishes, taken to one of the mysterious depositories that make up The Internet. ]

But it takes an hour of my time, maybe less. I'm still looking for alternatives.

[ Six glances again at the shoddy booth with it's fairly booming business. ]

You're doing well for yourself, it looks like.

[shifting]

Well, I guess no news is good news.

[he can't help but agree that Six should keep looking for better work, though. The manager in Sam wishes he had something to offer the guy himself. A damn shame the vineyard didn't have a restaurant attached.]

Doin' all right. [he glances up at the banner, expression twitching, then shrugs.] It's not mine, I don't own it. Which takes some gettin' used to. I've only ever been in business for myself. Never worked for someone else.

[irassible]

[ Six's smile warms, just a little. ]

I know the feeling. I may serve at the Bismark, but I take my skills everywhere. I might--

[ Someone touched his backside.

Six's head whips around, his ears up and stiff, but all that remains is the dregs of the crowd, pressing in close for their turn. It could have been an accident.

Could have. ]

...I might have a proposal for you, if you've the time to hear it later.

[shifting]

[Sam cocks his head, tensing a little himself when Six looks behind him like a startled - well, cat. Like someone rubbed his fur the wrong way or put the shit cat food down instead of the wet.

But he seems okay when he turns back, and if there's any way to re-direct Sam Merlotte's attention it's with talk of business.]

Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Any time you want to come by the vineyard, I've often got downtime while I'm there. Or we could get a drink somewhere else, whatever you're comfortable with.

[irassible]

I think I've had enough of crowds today.

[ If one looks closely, the fur on his tail is indeed puffed up. ]

But I can--call, later? After this whole thing is over.

[shifting]

- Yeah. Yeah, 'course.

[if he looks at it? Are you kidding? Sam can't stop staring. It's as bad as the ears, damn distracting.]

Anytime. We'll talk when everything's calmed down.

[irassible]

Good. I'll see you then.

[ He says, curtly, because now someone's crowding up against his side and he's had quite enough.

He'll put his glass down, snag a brochure, and then haul tail awaaaaaaaay at a brisk jog, ears back and tail sticking straight up and out. A gaggle of fans will hustle off in pursuit, with long-suffering security not far behind them. ]