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Message: <blockquote data-quote="VioletSamurai" data-source="post: 3266063" data-attributes="member: 47544">As Gauntlet leaves, the TV screens and video game consoles flicker to life once more, and the cursor and mouse once again fly across the screen of Quasar's laptop. "****. I'm glad he's finally gone. I had to go a whole two ****ing minutes with my brain only doing one ****ing thing at a time. I couldn't even listen to the radio. It was driving me ****ing crazy." Her earrings and facial piercings float back up and pinch against her flesh, though in different spots from before. "No radio, no video games, no piercings. It was like two minutes in a ****ing cubicle farm."Quasar's mouth falls open and her eyes go wide. "Holy ****ing ****, The Amazing Mr. Jones!" She grabs his hand and shakes it vigorously. "I loved your HBO special! (You'd be surprised how hard it is to find halfway decent programming at 3am) You were amazing! I love that one trick where you put the bird in the cage, and then you make the cage disappear! Wow..."Then she frowns, drops his hand, and crosses her arms. "Waitaminute. Oh **** me. OK, time to come clean. Are you really just that ****ing good an illusionist that the UN decided they should be paying you to pull coins from behind bad guys ears? Or is it that your whole act is a crock and you're really a mutant." Quasar raises an eyebrow expectantly at Mr. Jones."I mean, I understand that the Clown behind the bar is here more because he snitched on his buddies to get his own pretty-boy butt out of prison than because doing backflips and tossing custom grenades is really in high demand against guys who can fly through brick walls like they were styrofoam. (He does mix a good drink, though...) But I'm suddenly thinking that the UN wouldn't want you unless you really could read minds and exit-stage-right-enter-stage-left-without-a-body-double. And if that's the case, I'm feeling pretty ripped-off right now."With that, Quasar turns around, jumps back up onto the bar, and tosses back the last of her White Russian. She slides the glass down the bar towards Juggler, grins, and winks.[sblock=DC 10 Notice check]Quasar slid something under the glass before she sent it gliding across the bar. It's a business card, made of solid wafer-thin stainless steel. Close examination reveals that it is etched and embossed with her email address and cell-phone number.[/sblock]"Congradulations, Juggler. You've cleared the 3-drink minimum and your train has arrived in Friendville. You can call me 'Masako,' and please remember to keep all extremities inside the car until the train has come to a complete stop."</blockquote>

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