Wyvern Posted August 11, 2007 Report Posted August 11, 2007 Wyvern slithers into the Cabaret Room with a crumpled paper bag hooked onto the end of his tail stinger. The overgrown lizard lifts his snout to the sky and sniffs for the familiar scent of booze, his eyes staking out the area for any signs of rainbow leggings or sparkling silver wrist bangels. Coming up short, Wyvern grumbles and sneaks his way over to the Cabaret seat most used by Whisky in Babylon - the one with a view of the Banquet Hall, near a window looking out over the Courtyard, set next to a trapdoor leading to the Almost Report's former headquarters (RIP). The reptilian Elder unhooks the bag from his stinger and begins unloading its contents onto the seat with a sneer. "Thinksss she'll sssneak off without the proper recognition, doesss she?" Wyvern bundles a super-skimpy two-piece Almost Report body suite onto the chair, topping it with a scaly crimson wrist band and a note that reads "Happy Birthday: Whisky Hotshot Malone." He presses his claws together and looks over the gifts for a moment, then decides to tag the thin body suite top with a little birthday bow. "No chick internsss on the Almost Report and gets away without at least a little notoriety." Wyvern dusts off his claws and cackles a bit, satisfied with his gift set-up. He turns to rush off towards his latest scheme, but pauses as he notices the trapdoor on the ground adjacent to Whisky's old seat. He slowly approaches the door and kneels down to examine its lock, pondering if any marketable Almost Dragonic Brand Soot-E-Pets™ remain beneath it... ;-) OOC: Happy Birthday, Whisky in Babylon. :-) Here's hoping that college has been treating you well.
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