I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

[dirtyredneck]

WHO: Daryl Dixon, Mako Mori + Open
WHERE: Porter Cities & The House
WHEN: All November
WHAT: Catch-All!
WARNINGS: References Zombies Walkers, Kaiju, Abuse, General Violence and Gore are likely in a few threads.


Convention Circuit - A porter city near you
Having finally said goodbye to his Government assigned job, Daryl now had the free time to pursue projects he wanted to. For the most part. He was, however, still a contracted spokesman for Bow-Man Hunting and Hunting Season was well underway. With it came a convention circuit.

Daryl hadn't given much thought to the clause in his contract that had to do with personal appearances. He figured that he might have to make two, maybe three in a year because how many conventions could there be? 70. There were 70 conventions that Bow-Man Hunting had booths at. Every. Year. 26 for just the hunting and fishing industry. Not the general populace and 'enthusiasts', just the industry. The other 44 were the 'fan' conventions for the rest. The people that liked to go out like Daryl used to, for a weekend or a week in the woods. Or who wanted to prepare for a disaster, called themselves 'preppers'. Or for the rich asshole 'survival enthusiasts' who treated it all like a game. Gun shows, even, since families were often dragged along and left to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at whatever was in the dealer's hall and they could make a quick buck selling older models there along with their knife lines.

The only good part about the personal appearance clause was that he wasn't required to be at any shows (barring health or other negotiated absences) that weren't at the Porter Cities. The bad part was that he was required to be there for conventions in the Porter Cities. Which was why he could easily be found (looking very uncomfortable and grumpy, with shoulders hunched and arms crossed) by his adoring fans (Dear Lord how the hell did shooting one guy in the ass and posing for a couple pictures get him this much attention?) as well as people who actually wanted to talk shop.

Please, please, please, for the love of whatever you find holy or sacred or just downright okay, give him a 'business' reason to walk away from those fans crowding the side of the booth, taking pictures, and generally harassing him with a barrage of half-shouted questions and attempts to get his attention.


Enchilada Night - The House - November 3rd (open party for The Group, tag around/threadjack as you like)
Official purchase date had been October 23rd. Keys were handed out starting on the 25th. Official move-in date hadn't really been decided, as Daryl was still figuring out if he wanted to live on the property 'full time' or stick to the De Chima place. Mako's increased presence in day to day activity was pulling him closer and closer to Nonah as they'd have an easier time working their own personal touches into a new place than one of them taking up space somewhere the other had already established. Plus the De Chima house didn't really have space for the ravens Daryl was only a week or so away from formally adopting. The House did. And more they could add on to, as well.

Hell, he had already decided to move and just hadn't emotionally accepted it yet. He liked his housemates. Clark was quiet, but friendly enough. Betty always showed an interest in him and he was going to worry about her like crazy with Bruce still gone and her not knowing what to do with herself. And Catherine? He'd made her one of his almost as soon as he'd met her. They were kindred spirits from worlds where life as it was known in this one had ended.

Daryl wasn't really able to do a 'clean cut', but he could try to make the move-in more concrete. No better way to do that than with food. And free food, to boot. His last day on the job at the Cantina he'd been assigned to became something of a welcome-home move-in party. The restaurant was sad to see him go, but the employees had liked him well enough to fudge a few numbers on the books with 'remakes' and 'expired product' to send him packing with a good two dozen fresh enchiladas, a pile of tamales, and a few elotes.

Made for a great mini-feast with the family that none of them had to do the work for.


Wildcard/OOC
Daryl will largely be around Nonah and De Chima during November. Heropa will become less of a haunt the further into the month we get. If you've got an idea for a thread, you can post it or PM me to work it out beforehand so we're on the same page. And if you'd like a specific prompt, PM me and I'll set it up in the comments.

Also, feel free to tag in whatever style is most comfortable for you, I have no problem matching!

Comments

Dreaming | Late Oct/Early Nov | Closed to Mako

[dirtyredneck]

Empty. That's what the Drift was supposed to be. Well, not 'empty', but absent of all the things that made an individual fight for control of their self. Absent of shame, modesty, pride. The things that could force the neural handshake to fail and the pilots to reject each other's presence inside their minds. They were supposed to try and bring nothing to the Drift.

But that's not how it really worked, was it? In the Drift, you brought everything. Your entire self. He knew, now, that there were ways of hiding little bits from the other partner. Mako had done it to Raleigh with a few choice pieces of herself the first couple times they drifted. It took work, a kind of focus and ability to compartmentalize your thoughts. And only if the Drift itself was strong could you do that without jeopardizing it's stability. But it just wasn't possible to do it on a bigger scale. To keep all of the rest of it out. The Drift required too much trust to do otherwise.

During waking hours Daryl had learned how to regulate some of his mental feedback to Mako when they were separated, doing their own things. It felt a little rough, here and there, but it wasn't anything terrible. Like setting a thought to the side to focus on something else for a while.

As the day wound down, however, that impulse got harder and harder to fight. Like a song stuck in his head and all he could remember was the fucking chorus. Needling at him until he finally searched it out just to hear it in full again. Let himself fall into the feelings it created. Mako was a song he could play over and over again.

Sleep took him and so did she. A hand extended to grab his own and tug him along as they ran head first into whatever demons or dreams decided to come at them.

[redshoerevenge]

Snow under her boots, the crunch of it echoing as she moved with her head down against the cold wind. Anchorage. The white frozen beach she had known for more than a few years yawned before her, pristine save for where the ocean flowed in and left its waved traces, foam leaving its texture in the snow it began to melt. The only thing that ruined it was the the slow, seeping Kaiju Blue that the tide had begun to wash ashore. It touched the snow and bled into it, spreading and spreading as she trudged through it.

Daryl was there, somewhere beside her, in the vivid landscape and she stretched her hand out to find him, unable to look away from the advancing blue.

Cutting Ties | November 5th | Closed to Mako

[dirtyredneck]

He was in Heropa for work. She was in De Chima for hers. He was on break. She had just decided to take hers. Once he felt her hunger being sated and her getting comfortable wherever it was she was sitting down, he sent her an idea. More than just words, feelings of conviction and purpose. Worry, too. For how much things were unsettled whenever they ported. How fragile their bond felt when it happened. The need to fix it as one did a broken bone that had set wrong the first time. And under it all, the discomfort of not really wanting to do what was necessary. They both already knew it would hurt.

Let me go.

[redshoerevenge]

Her fingers curled tight around her teacup as she took a sharp breath in and tried to not focus on the instant protest that crawled along the Drift. They'd said they needed to do this, multiple times, putting it off, circling around it. Mako's lips thinned and then thinned further as she put her cup down and steadied herself with the flat of her palms against the table.

It needed to be done, needed to be learned, she understood that. But it didn't stop the heart in her throat, gut wrenching initial reaction. Mako closed her eyes and nodded once.

Together, she said, blinking rapidly a few times. Like a hand letting go, her fingers, her mind loosening.

First Visit & Enchilada Night - OTA

[itstheirworld]

[She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she was curious to see the house right away when Daryl gave her the key, but Enid does the best thing for her and waits until the third. Before heading there she packs a few things - clothes and a small stash of food, mostly - to bring and set herself up with in case the place ever is needed as a safehouse. And that is all for the time being.

With her bag on her back, she unlocks the door and steps on through. The smell of food catches her attention almost immediately when she does, which leads her to naturally follow her nose and stride right into the kitchen. Daryl is standing there when she enters, but so are a few others she does and doesn't quite recognize. Her look to him might initially say "so this is the place", but an acknowledging or curious glance moves onto be given to each person in the room.

After which she half smiles to herself, with this to say:] Hi. Smells good in here.

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl offered her a an amused look in return, as well as a nod. He was just finishing pulling the food out so she came in at a good time. Plates were being passed around and water poured from the tap. Paper towels for napkins. A real down-home party.

Once some of the enchiladas were plated, he grabbed one and passed it to her with a fork.]

It should. The food's made by some damn good cooks.

Advice | November 5th | Closed to Newton Geiszler

[dirtyredneck]

It was early evening when Daryl came banging on their apartment door. His fist landing heavily until it was pulled open. They'd managed to exit the Drift, he and Mako, but it wasn't a pleasant experience over all. He'd pushed her to do it while they were separated by three states and done his best to avoid going places she knew he'd go after he decided to tell Newt about it.

He stood there, looking about as haggard as he felt, voice rough with emotion he was trying to suppress, "Need to talk. You got time?"

[driftsintobuffetline]

Hermann was out doing some shopping when Daryl's insistent knocking pulled Newt from his reading. It certainly wasn't Hermann, and Qubit would have identified himself by now--maybe it was Joaquin?? Hopeful, despite the odds against him, Newt put aside his book on Victorian Era cryptids and carefully removed their ginger cat, Liebling, from his lap.

A few seconds later, he opened the door and frowned. Sooo not the mustachioed heartthrob. Daryl had been pretty low on the list of suspected visitors.

"Oh. Uh, yeah, I have time. You, uh--Come in." He held wide open the door and ushered Daryl in, continuing to babble as was his usual way. "Want some tea? We're just starting to stock up on the ridiculous seasonal stuff for the holidays, if you're into that kind of thing." Newt shut the door behind them. "You don't strike me as into that. I can do sweet tea. Just don't tell Hermann--" he added with a laugh, "he's against ice in tea, but his opinions suck anyway. So. What brings you here?"

Convention Circuit: Nonah; Because I couldn't resist it.

[redshoerevenge]

Mako, wearing a particularly stylish black dress and a pair of black ankle boots she could definitely run in, eased her way through the crowd at the edges, escaping a few grasping hands when someone recognized her. It was a ripple effect and she did her best to ignore it. Heading to Daryl and the booth was her objective, mostly to see if she could drag him off somewhere quiet for a break.

Her eyes found his from the crowd, not that he hadn't known the moment she came in the building, and her face lit up immediately. It took a few more minutes to get to him, but she gently laid her fingertips against his arm and leaned up.

"I brought tea," she murmured, and I can jam a stairwell door. Wanna make a break for it? It'll be fun.

[dirtyredneck]

Mako was more used to the crowds and the stares. Even after the Jaeger program started it's shut down, there was still a lot of publicity around anyone related to them. She'd kept to the 'background' of press conferences in general. But the crowds and moving through them was something she had experience with. The attention. The quiet way of leaning up to murmur in Stacker's ear for a report.

Dressed as she was, she looked like she could be a business manager. The fingers on his his arm could almost be brushed off as simply a way to deal with the slight height difference between him. If not for the way his lips twitched upward in a smile he wasn't able to erase fast enough to be missed by the pictures. More than a few managed to capture that brief look before he straightened up and got his expression under control. He stepped back and spoke for a second with the Booth Manager and Company touch-point he'd been assigned. Asked first for a company pass for Mako so she could get around where the general crowds couldn't and then told them he'd be taking a short break.

Short because he was obligated to a certain amount of time at the booth each day. But he could have a lunch and a breather in one of the back rooms. The quiet of a stairwell would be nice, but he wasn't really sure where any were that were out of the way enough to jam. Press room'll be the emptiest. Might have a couple journal reporters there. Nothin' we can't ignore.

Once everyone knew what was going on, Daryl set his finger tips to the small of Mako's back and started to lead her through the crowd. More pictures were taken of that.

November 3

[112ounces]

The apartment in the school is too empty. It's always been a little bigger than usual, but the silence is no longer being drowned by the television or the radio.

So it is a little relieving when he hear the news that the house is finally up. Of course, Carl can't quit school - as much as he wanted to - so he still needs to live in the imPort school at least part-time. He packs up a few clothes; mostly his winter clothes that he hasn't been wearing much since he moved from Maurita Falls to Heropa go to the new home in Nonah. On a whim, he brings Tommy, his English Springer Spaniel puppy who is less than a year old and still hyper. He thinks of having Tommy to stay here - he'd be happier with a bigger place than in a cramped apartment.

Either way, Carl sits down at the table, giving himself a serving of enchiladas and an elote. If someone sits down next to Carl, he'll turn his head and mutter a thick "Hey," as he chews.

[redshoerevenge]

Mako moves through the room to refill her teacup and catches sight of Carl. It's strange, knowing someone when they don't know you. Daryl's memories and experiences are threaded throughout her own and it's a good kind of familiar just as much as it's strange. She brings her cup back and eases the chair back with a soft, almost absent Hey, Carl back. There's more than a little familiarity in it that she can't help.

It's just there.

She's quiet, though, blowing on her tea as silently as possible.

"It's a good kind of quiet here," Mako murmurs a few moments later.

[itstheirworld]

At some point after the comical scene given by herself and Daryl (in that order) due to the spiciness of the enchiladas, Enid finds Carl with Tommy playing near by and smiles down a little at the goofy puppy before taking the seat right next to him. It's the first time she's seen the puppy play without Timmy around, though. And it's adorable, she has to admit.

(Why wasn't her cat with her now anyway? The answer was as simple as Timmy wanting to mouse somewhere in Heropa for the time being. There were gifts and food to stock up on according to his smart feline brain.)

Anyway, she greets Carl with a faint smile too. "Hey," she says quietly. She could see he was just getting down to eating though, and didn't want to bother him so much there, so she sits quiet then, letting her eyes fall on his food, examining it for a few moments, all before speaking again. "Be careful, that's really spicy."

Why? The least she thinks she can do is offer a bit of warning for the enchilada on his plate, after all.

[dirtyredneck]

Later, after Carl's had his fill of food in the kitchen and had moved on to another room, Daryl came to find him. The not-quite-full grown dog in his arms. He looks only a little annoyed.

"Found him trying to turn the chickens into chew toys. Keep him inside the house 'til we get the coop finished, will ya?" His words are a bit of chastisement but his tone is free of any such emotion. He's actually rather please to see the dog taking to the place so well. "Want me to train him to hunt? Got the room now."

November 8th | Persephone's Hole in the Ground | Closed to Persephone

[dirtyredneck]

[He hadn't been around much the last month as he'd scouted the mountains during a 'hunting tour' of the Appalachians. Which meant he hadn't been bringing animal skulls and bones around for Persephone to use in her decoration. He did remember to save the ones from his weekly 'lunches' and the hunting around the house, though, for the next time he saw her. Figured it would be a decent enough apology and potential good-will bribe for an idea that had been rolling around his head since his and Mako's first drift. He'd seen evidence of what the woman could do. Just needed to see if she'd be up for using that power to bring a particular vision of his to life.

Daryl made his way down the path. Just as creepy as before. More bones. He didn't know if she'd be outside or inside, but if she was inside, he could call down and announce himself. If she was out, well, she'd see him. And if he had to wait, he'd wait.]

[pummelgranite]

[ She's good enough now, with her work, that she can tell someone is approaching. Purposefully- Kyle maybe? John?


A coil of greenery blooms from the ground, and out she comes. She seems a touch surprised to see him, but certainly not displeased. ]


Hey, been a while.

November 10th | Maurita Falls | Closed to Alfie

[dirtyredneck]

He didn't need the materials for another two weeks, but getting them in the first place and not having the purchase traced back to him in anyway meant arrangements had to be made. Finding the name of someone who could do that had taken some effort. 'Alfie' eventually came up enough times in his lurking and asking about that he'd finally looked into arranging a meeting.

A winter jacket, a trucker's cap, and his crossbow left at home changed his known appearance enough that he'd been able to get around without being adversely noticed. Looked pretty much like a regular Joe. He wasn't going to stand out at all in the place he'd been told to meet this 'Alfie'. Good. The less eyes, the better.

[devoutish]

Alfie hasn't been trying very hard to build up any sort of business here. His goal is to get home, not to remake his empire in this strange future world, and he simply isn't interested in putting in the time and effort needed to make himself into a big name here. However, that doesn't mean that he's sworn off crime completely, and he does hang out in some of Maurtia Falls's more unsavory places - and so when Daryl had contacted him, it hadn't been a surprise. He'd given him a time and a place - somewhere public - and told him that they'd discuss things in person.

He comes into the bar wearing a big coat and top hat, as per usual. It's a busy time of day, but Alfie had called ahead to reserve them a small, out-of-the-way table towards the back. But first, he finds Daryl near the entrance, and sticks out his hand for a handshake.

"Mr. Dixon."

November 11th | Maurita Falls | Closed to Midnighter

[dirtyredneck]

The name that got passed his way came about as a result of careful inquiries into the shadier side of the world. He wasn't asking for anything particularly illegal, but the need for it to be off the books was. In particular, he needed a way of transporting the building materials he'd been looking into purchasing as well as a warehouse to store it all at between trips. And both needed to not be connected to him in any way. It definitely wasn't the first time someone had gone around looking for that sort of thing. But it wasn't exactly a common need, either.

Daryl was pretty sure the name he'd been given and the time and place to meet were a joke. But the man who'd slipped it to him had been insistent that he was legit. And it had come about after a nearly a week of dedicated inquiry and hiding himself from the public eye while he made his way around the city. And, based on his own familiarity with how undercover cops acted (plenty had tried to get evidence against Merle that way), he didn't think it was a set up. At least not in that sense.

Could still be a joke.

But he showed up, having gotten no better leads. He could talk to the guy at the very least.

[heliophilic]

Of all the ways to be introduced to a fellow imPort, he never expected it to be via a call from one of his assets. The guy had been approached about moving construction materials discreetly, and figured Midnighter's Door technology could be of assistance. Curious about the concept of a discreet building project, Midnighter agreed to meet the guy and gave a time and a place.

Okay sure, perhaps a cat cafe was a strange place to have a meeting of this nature, but the owner was an asset of his known for her discretion, and the back room where the cats eat and get away from the patrons was perfect for its privacy.

The owner ushered Daryl inside the room, where Midnighter was seated on a nearby bench. A mostly white tabby cat was sitting in his upturned cowl on his lap, nibbling at a chicken breast attached to an extremely sharp knife in the leather armored man's hand.

"Daryl Dixon, I presume?"

Early November, Nonah Convention

[pretendtoneedme]

Clint had decided to come to one of these things for a few reasons, mostly because he'd been ported in with absolutely zero arrows after they'd been used or scattered during the fight in Leipzig and currently had no way to replace them. Or, well, he could replace his normal arrows, even the shittily cheap ones from hunting and army/navy stores were good enough for someone with his aim, but the trick arrows? Those were, well, trickier. Eventually he was pretty sure Tony would be able to make more for him - and, eventually, he'd probably trust this version of Tony enough to accept them. But for now he didn't, and Tony wasn't, and the regular arrows available on the everyday market didn't offer options for other things, and he didn't have the tools available to design and build his own as he'd sometimes done with S.H.I.E.L.D. It was a lot more likely that somewhere like this would have at least something he could modify into trick arrows, not to mention just having better arrows in general. If he had to, he could trade on his skill and his status as an imPort to get equipment, but he wasn't going to go that far until he absolutely had to... until he got distracted when he spotted Daryl.

Now, he knew Daryl did archery - he'd seen the wounds that fletching and snapped bowstrings could leave on a person, and after he'd left the house he'd deliberately gone and looked up those ads. And laughed, because seriously. Those ads were fucking ridiculous, trying to make him look so intense and tough but also sexy and they were just a mess and it was pretty clear to him that Daryl didn't want to be doing it. An idea that was made even more clear when Clint spotted Daryl at the Bow-Man booth surrounded by a crowd of about thirty people - mostly young women but also a few star-struck men - with various signs in their grasp saying things like Daryl's Dears and Wings 'n' Arrows all trying to talk over each other at once, infringing on his personal space, several of them even reaching out to touch him. Daryl was obviously uncomfortable but Clint couldn't help bursting out into laughter at the look on his face. He'd managed to avoid most of the celebrity~ around the Avengers through careful planning, but there'd definitely been cosplay crowds trying to break into the Tower a couple of times. This was just taking him back.

But, Daryl looked busy, no need to keep him from his adoring fans. Clint turned to head off to the next set of booths.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl was, by technicality, busy. Technicality only. He kept having to inch back from those hands reaching out for him, further and further into the booth. Only the Bow-Man reps enforcing a line for their people to get in through allowed him any room to breath. His 'fans' had found the booth and him by virtue of the giant-ass banner with one of his advertisement pictures on it. And because of it, the company's booth that been swarmed all day with people. Which was exactly what they wanted but not what Daryl wanted.

So when he spotted the lone familiar face turning away into the crowd, he seized his chance to have a break by calling out over the group in front of him, "Hey! Asshole! Get your ass over here!" And just to be sure Clint knew he was talking to him, when he turned to check, Daryl pointed at him, "Yeah, you, Sunshine."

This, unexpectedly by Daryl, caused his fans to part like the Red Sea so Clint had a clear line to walk through. Their voices suddenly hushed as they whispered to each other speculation about who Clint was. Was he a friend? A rival? A lover? (Why would he call his lover 'asshole'? Because Daryl called everyone an asshole, duh! And what better way to hide it in public? He and Rick were a thing before Rick ported out. Allegedly!)

Wildcard November De Chima

[excessivehubris]

Charles spent more time in De Chima then he did back home in Nonah. He was starting to know the place like the back of his hand, particularly down around the Foundation's headquarters.

Which was a lazy way of saying he'd scoped out the best little cafes with tea.

Though he usually just ordered in, the day was nice enough that the desire to get out and enjoy the crisp fall air had over come his otherwise work-a-holic tendencies. Dressed in a warm sweater, with a collared shirt and nice slacks, the Professor rolled along, down a busy sidewalk, heading for a cafe simply known as "Heidi's".

It was a bit of a De Chima secret, owned by it's namesake's father they served delicious soups and sandwiches but boasted one of the best loose leaf tea collections Charles had come across since arriving in this world. Hence why the place had quickly become one of the Professor's favorites.

[dirtyredneck]

Mako's presence in Daryl's head had made a few subtle changes in Daryl. Not in his personality, really, but in things he sought out for comfort or relaxation. Meditation or kata practice were right up there with his hunting and riding his bike. But the one that won out the most was her damn love of tea and a good hot cup to be held in her hands while she breathed in the smell of it and allowed the heat and scent to lull her into a sense of peace. That combined with his own powers screwing over his taste buds, weaker teas had become something of a staple of his diet.

Heidi's was a diner he'd discovered after the Foundation opened to the public but put little thought to until after the first Drift when Mako's opinions on teas started to take root. It helped that the place was quiet and largely unknown as one of his haunts by his local fans. A place he could actually get away and feel a little relaxed.

Daryl didn't immediately recognize Xavier as the man in the wheel chair as he walked down the sidewalk, a new leather jacket on under his old leather vest. His crossbow had been left at home since he finally had a home he felt safe leaving it in. Still had his knives (and gun hidden at the small of his back), but he wasn't dragging around that weight. It was only when he realized the man in front of him was angling for the door to Heidi's that Daryl darted forward and grabbed it, held it open.

And that was when he recognized the man, "Hey."


ooc: He's actively drifting with Mako in this thread, so if any thought reading happens, assume them to be slightly jumbled as the update on your permissions describes!

Late November | Heropa | Closed to Barnaby Brooks Jr.

[dirtyredneck]

The alert was a good four months old and for a kid out of one of Nonah's suburbs. Pretty little girl with those pom-pom pigtails who'd just turned 12 right before she disappeared. Family's last photos of her were from her birthday party. Of the group he'd been trying to get a lead on, she was the only one who had flowers growing for her. He didn't know if it meant she was the only one alive, she was the only one who still went by the name in the press releases, or she was the only one that still looked enough like her picture for the damn power to work properly. It was a frustrating learning curve because knowing the subtleties was the difference between finding someone alive and kicking or not being able to help and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders because he should be able to. Why else would he have been given that kind of power? Certainly not for shits and giggles.

The trail led him out of Nonah and south along the highways and by-ways into the outer Heropa area. From there it got harder to follow because of the all the twisting around buildings he had to do just to navigate through and into downtown. And then he had to deal with fans and natives trying to take up his time. People he couldn't just tell to fuck the hell off because he was busy. Largely because if they got pissed and followed him, they could alert whoever had the girl locked away that someone was coming. And Daryl wasn't about to risk her getting killed over him having a bad fan experience.

It was draining, though. And beyond frustrating. Slowing him down exponentially. To the point that when he spotted Barnaby's rather memorable pink and white bike, he bee-lined to it and went to introduce the fan group following him to the other man, "This is the guy you wanna talk to about autographs."

[attainment]

Barnaby had been standing next to his bike, sending a couple of texts out when Daryl approached his way, leading a gaggle of fans behind him. One glance at the incoming group had Barnaby tucking the communicator into his pocket and straightening his shoulders with a seemingly effortless smile.

Autographs, huh? Barring an emergency, Barnaby was usually willing to stop to shake hands with a well-meaning fan. Of course, he likely appealed to a different demographic than someone like Daryl...a rugged, older man with an intriguing aloofness that belied a caring, selfless nature. Even if he wasn't as well-manicured as someone who had spent years prepping for stages and paparazzi alike, his status as an imPort still marked him as a person of interest in the public eye, and there was naturally going to be a segment of the population that reacted positively to someone more unpolished and rough around the edges.

"Daryl, I'm glad you could make it," he smoothly answered without missing a beat, slipping into the role of someone who'd been waiting just for him.

"And you've brought friends, it seems," Barnaby continued before gracing the group with a warm smile. "Thank you all for supporting the imPort community. I know I speak for the both of us when I say we greatly appreciate your interest in our work. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'll need to steal Mr. Dixon from you for awhile. You see, he kindly took time out of his busy schedule because my employers wanted to discuss a possible Powerthirst campaign, and I'd hate to keep anyone waiting."

Having already retrieved a small packet from his jacket, he extended it to the group, adding, "Please, accept these free coupons as a token of my apology."