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“Yes, getting married.” Kath said as she shook her head. How she let herself get so drawn into James’s web she didn’t know. It did have to do with his getting along with her daughter though.

“Have you done something you were reluctant to do, but found out that it was really fun?”

“Waterparks, its wet, damp, and it soaks in everywhere.” Jack looks off blankly, which considering he wears sunglasses and a mask all the time might be a little hard to distinguish blank from normal. “But the wife was pretty cute, so worth.”

“Alllrighty kiddies, if you had to pick between Russian roulette with five rounds and one empty chamber, hot potato with a bottle of nitro glycerin, or chicken with the train which would you pick?”

Lynx considers his options. Russian roulette with five rounds and one empty chamber sounds the most appealing, especially if he would be playing against a group of problemsome mortal rivals and silver bullets were not involved.

<"If you were stripped of all your powers and equipment, and imprisoned in a standard prison, how would you escape? Don't be afraid to describe the process.">

The man tilted his head, and let a confused sound trail from his lips. The Weren asked a most confusing question, and the sound of having one's agency stripped from them, what all but defined them taken from themselves, but shouldn't the answer be straightforward? The situation most certainly was clear-cut and lacked all avenue of escape; tied, trapped, a truly threatening situation to be in. When presented with no choices, one could either break under the pressure or remain whole.

"If everything that made me, me, was taken, I would talk to the gate. I can't go out unless you open. I can't go out unless you open."

He would talk to the gate that holds him until someone came to shut him up, then reach out to their hearts to help undo whatever hate they hold in them. Geist most certainly won't make a convincing argument to escape, nor will he try-- if someone wants him to stay there, he probably will. It would be rude to leave.

At least he'd make a friend.

"What if you were to have a friend, in whose heart burns an unquenchable flame; all-consuming, and never satisfied. Would you dare to stop them from their own greed? Or would you let them burn into ash, and mourn them from afar?"

The artist crossed her arms, head slowly tilting to the right as she pondered the hypothetical situation. "I think I'd do both, ideally," she mused at length. "I'd probably try to stop them if possible, but there's only so many times you can try if they're set in their ways. After that, standing back and grieving from a distance is just about all you can do."

The artist shrugged, an expression akin to guilt briefly crossing her features. She then gave herself a little shake, looking to someone else and asking, with a tone of mixed exasperation and curiosity, "What do you do if you can't seem to find a solution to a problem and your brain's refusing to cooperate with you?"

"Hm. Cry, probably?" They didn't seem to enjoy admitting that part, and the statement came with a slight self-depricating smile. "Afterwards I might feel more calm, and be able to come up with a solution. ... Okay, here's my question: If there is a cat sitting on your lap, and you need to use the bathroom, what do you do?"

Sentinel laughed. "I'd obviously pick him up and place him somewhere while he waits for me."

"Hmmm, what is your favorite superpower? It can be one you've seen or one you used yourself."

"The ability to control lightning." She concluded.

"What's your favorite food?"

"I know cannibalism is frowned upon by most of you guys, but there's somethin' about my peers that just makes my stomach growl..." Mixie grins with a giggle, before quickly switching to a more stoic expression. "Ahem... apple pie is a very close second."

She quickly turns around to face someone else, that twisted grin returning. "You! Somebody's holdin' you at gunpoint and is threatenin' to kill you if you don't give him all your money. What do you do?!"

"Joke's on them, all I have is a quarter. They can have it. Now. What's your favourite juice? If you don't like juice... WHY NOT?"

"Favorite juice? That is--" A difficult question! He rests a hand on his hip, look thoughtful as he thinks it over. There's a slight sway to him all the while, restless and unable to be still, and a faint jingling and clacking from the beads and coins woven into long dreads follows each movement. "Apple, I suppose, though I'd rather have rum, savvy?"

He turns on his heel, a hand held up, sleeve tumbling down to around his elbow. "Oi, you! Aye, you!" He gestures wildly to whoever is nearby. "What is your opinion on rum, eh?"

“Rum? Depends on the occasion, for more formal settings I prefer a wine but if it’s just me having a drink while reading outside, a little rum never hurt.”

“What is your least favorite kind of sweater and why?”

"Wool sweaters," Ari scowls, crossing his arms. "They're hot, itchy, and expensive. How the hell do you humans put up with wearing one of those dreadful things? I reckon I could make one with less irritating materials for a much cheaper price."

Ari turns to the closest person next to him. "Listen, I don't have time to mingle with the likes of you. So I'll keep my question short; What's your favourite thing to wear, and why?"

"Oh! That's easy," the pooka exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. The bangles which lined her wrists rattled together, costume pearls colliding with a bracelet of delicately tooled gold. "I wear everything that is my favorite." Like her jewelry, her clothing showed little sign of rhyme or reason. A jumble of contrasting fashion and archaic styles, the only one it made any sense to was... Well. Her.

"When I first fell in love with the theatre, these were all the rage." She curled a hand to her throat, indicating the heavily starched collar that looked like something straight out of an Elizabethan period piece. "My stockings came from the harlequin who first taught me to tumble. My slippers from the summer I spent among the chorus girls at the Opéra Garnier. Some of my bells were a gift from a morris dancer, but the other ones, the sweeter ones, those came with me from the Wylds." Seemingly incapable of standing still, each element was presented in turn. An extension of her right leg, a graceful point of her toes. Even a rotation of her foot in order to make the bells tied to her ankle chime.

"Your turn now! Who is your favorite person and why?"

She closed her eyes, a smile across her face as she spoke "Theres this amazing man I've been with for hundreds of year's. He helps those in need and would do anything to keep his team safe... His eyes are a beautiful silver... His smile is kind and inviting... His arms are warm-and..."

She opens her eyes as her face flushes and she becomes a bright red as she stumbles over her words "I-I M-mean is uh h-he-no i- G-glitch i-is uh..." She seems to have a knot in her throat "I uh... He-hes just nice... Y-yeah... My favorite person..."

She shakes her head as she tries to concentrate "S-so uh, ahem... The love of your life walks up to you and cries into your shoulder, who is it, and how would you deal with it?"

If it was the other young woman's turn to blush a second ago, now it was Maisi's. Her pale face slowly dusted over in the tell-tale pink hue of embarrassment, and she frowned at the ground briefly as if thinking.

"...Well, I don't know--don't know who the love of my life is," she started, looking up and attempting to appear nonchalant. "I mean, I like--"

She stopped, abruptly looking down again. "So--I have no clue who would be coming to me for comfort, but if someone did, I suppose I'd try to figure out what was wrong and help them, if I could. What else could you do, if it was someone you loved?"

The young artist cleared her throat in that specific way that meant she was moving on from the question. "Oh, you there--what's your comfort food? You know, that one snack that always hits just the right way and gives you that taste of nostalgia..."

"Probably freaking out, as the love of my life has long since died." He looked out into the distance, deep in thought.

"What is your favorite hobby?"

"Eating! And hanging out with Happy and Lucy!" He smiled.

"Whats your favorite ability or power you have?"

"Oh! i love that i can fly"


"whats your favorite food?"

“Salmon. I love salmon. Don’t ask why, I just do. Beef? I’ll eat it but won’t enjoy it. Berries? They’re fine. But I love Salmon. And nothing tops it! … sorry for that little food tangent”

“So anyway, what type of weather do you prefer? Like hot, cold, rainy, windy?”