Kaisel
Haters on my back like a backpack
The innuendos keep coming with all the relentless infinity that years do, as Smash Mouth so well sang. It leave's Kai's cheeks bending over the line of his mouth, a low chuckle barely slipping free beneath the rise of Flora 's voice. Much like Gretchen Wieners, Kiada gets none.
Taking hold of the clipboard he's handed with all the authority of someone who means to make a problem for others, Kaisel studies it with an audible "hmmmm" as they approach the crates. "The stools should be in these ones. Says the wooden legs just screw into the seat, so we just need to check we're not missing any ass platforms or their trusty posts." In theory, the labels should be right, but the crowbar means to the truth seeker today. Slapping the clipboard down like a gavel, he grabs a crowbar off one crate, flipping it over in his hand with a flourishing move that he absolutely only did to look cool. He shoots an expectant glance towards Flora, applause duly incoming.
Prying open some of the crates he tips in and rustles around in the guts of packing paper and straw that nestles the goods safely inside. "Everything looks in order here," he mutters before moving on to others, only pausing to scratch some note or two on the page. "What'd you decide on for the booths this time around?"
Kaisel checks on the furniture crates
Taking hold of the clipboard he's handed with all the authority of someone who means to make a problem for others, Kaisel studies it with an audible "hmmmm" as they approach the crates. "The stools should be in these ones. Says the wooden legs just screw into the seat, so we just need to check we're not missing any ass platforms or their trusty posts." In theory, the labels should be right, but the crowbar means to the truth seeker today. Slapping the clipboard down like a gavel, he grabs a crowbar off one crate, flipping it over in his hand with a flourishing move that he absolutely only did to look cool. He shoots an expectant glance towards Flora, applause duly incoming.
Prying open some of the crates he tips in and rustles around in the guts of packing paper and straw that nestles the goods safely inside. "Everything looks in order here," he mutters before moving on to others, only pausing to scratch some note or two on the page. "What'd you decide on for the booths this time around?"
Kaisel checks on the furniture crates
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
