legionmissions | Goodwill PR Tour!

Who| The Director and volunteers
What| Goodwill PR Tour to Legion-Lacking planets!
Where| Rann, Tamaran, and Korugar
When| The following week
Warnings/Notes| N/A, will add as needed

[[Plot Note: Rann subthreads going up tonight. Tamaran tomorrow, and Korugar on Sunday]]
[[ooc: ~~PLEASE WAIT TO TAG UNTIL I HAVE PUT UP SUBHEADERS PLEASE AND THANK YOU!~~ have at it!]]

It's something of a whirlwind tour; each stop begins with a fancy dress evening meet and greet mingle, the following day there's a panel where they talk about their experiences, notable missions, what it means to them to be a Legionnaire and what they bring to the overall battle, and ends with a Question and Answer session where the accumulated crowd and reporters can ask specific things of all or specific Legionnaires. If they feel so inclined, time is made for demonstrations and talents. They break for lunch, then reconvene for two to three hours to autographs pictures and action figures or other wares and sundry people might want their favorite (represented) Legionnaire's signature on.

So far, everything seems to be going along just fine ...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mingle

If you thought Rico was going to show up in his Judge uniform, pauldrons golden and shiny, then boy are you in for a surprise. Rico is young, vain, and he likes his finery. He doesn't have many occasions to indulge in finery, after all. And part of it is letting other people see. As in keeping with absolute cutting-edge Mega-City One fashion in 2080, he's wearing a decorative facepiece in lieu of his helmet, and dressed in a replica of a Euro-cit style inspired suit by rising fashion star Randy Gitt.

But he's enjoying himself, even if others may not be. Snagging the last dainty finger food even if another hand was reaching for it at the same time, hovering around the bar despite not getting an alcoholic drink, or leaning against an alcove, making judgements on passing people's clothing as he watches everyone glide by.

Or maybe later, somewhere discreet, he might be getting blitzed out of his mind. He's supposed to conduct himself as a Judge in public - Beeny could be watching at any moment. But at the same time, as the evening wears on, the open bar is starting to look more and more like a great idea. He figures - why the hell shouldn't I? Everyone else is. So he has a glass or two. Or more. He feels great. He's not even pissed when they eventually have to cut him off. A fancy, shmancy event like this where he's the center of attention, openly gets to dress up and look good in public? He feels like a damn prince. Like something straight out of the old holo-vids, or a dream palace.

Yeah. He's feeling good. So out he saunters, feeling only the slightest bit unsteady on his feet. Really.

Panel and Q&A

During the panel, it's like he's a completely different person. Charismatic, easy-going, with a smile that looks just about as natural as it gets. Friendly. Harmless. He fields Claire's questions with a social grace he hasn't quite shown before, indicating that he does have them after all.

But during the Q&A, his responses are still a little too... weird. A little too intense. A little harsh, abrupt when it comes to certain topics. And although the topic veers close at times, it's a minor miracle that somebody hasn't asked him about what he thinks about The United Planets or their judiciary and governing systems yet.

And then somebody asks a very stupid question.

There's a pregnant, dangerous pause.

"Excuse me?" Rico asks. Something in his veneer cracks. "I don't believe I heard you right."

Claire herself is in a simple but elegant burgundy dress, one hand lifting up a local take on a martini, with some odd little black and red garnish instead of olives.

Everything seemed to be going well until she saw someone's expression turn sour and followed it to see Rico in all his resplendence. Claire's eyes go wide, but then she's striding across the room with veiled purpose - can't let on that this is a disaster, despite how much of a disaster it was. She moves as if to walk past him but comes to graceful stop by his shoulder and speaks in hushed tones,

"I do not care if you forgot your pants or intentionally left them behind. We are putting our best face forward, incase you forgot which head you're supposed to be thinking with." She tilts her head ever so slightly to the side in order to shoot daggers at him. Really, Rico? A speedo?! Her cheeks are about as red as her hair, as much from embarassment as anger.

Rico twists back to see who's whispering over his shoulder, and breaks out into loud guffaws.

"Dearing, what are you wearing?" He turns his entire body to face her as he looks her up and down, hands on his hips. "At least I brought my good outfit, what the hell happened to yours?" He would've expected her to dress up at her own event, at least. But then again with her no-nonsense attitude, it makes sense that she'd wear something so boring.

"And what are you talking about?" he asks, in genuine bafflement. "I am wearing pants." He spreads his legs demonstratively in a misguided attempt to be helpful as he gestures to himself, the other hand holding a tiny cake. "Did you imbibe too many of those drinks or what?"

She crosses one arm over her stomach, knuckles resting against her elbow as she watched him over the rim of her martini (which she was kind of using to block her view of his lower half).

"In my world, that's what we call underware, and it is not polite to show it outside of your own bedroom." She speaking in harsh undertones, trying not to let it blow up anymore than it already has. She is not going to address his opinions on her own dress because, frankly, she didn't expect him to be able to understand women's fashion (or, apparently, fashion at all). "You're certainly not getting an respect or admiration wearing this getup."

Rico makes a sound in the back of his throat, like it all makes sense now. "I'd forgot how conservative and unfashionable the early tens were," he says haughtily. He stands fully erect, his shoulders stiffening. "Respect? Admiration? I'm getting plenty. This is an original Randy Gitt. Hardly a getup. If you think I should've kept the fishnets, you should have just said so."

He eyes her suspiciously. Flushed cheeks, aversion of eye contact, defensive posture. Definitely inebriated, and clearly ashamed of her drunken state at one of her own functions.

"And you're not going to get any admiration wearing that. It's barely a step up above a potato sack." There's a pause as Rico hesitates. "Actually, in some circles wearing one would be a fairly bold statement, but I doubt it's what you were going for in this case."

Edited 2017-09-15 17:05 (UTC)

She tries to choke back a snort of indignation. No, that's not polite. As angry and suffering second-hand embarassment as she is, she needs to be civil. She takes a moment to let it pass, and tries to choose her words carefully.

"I don't know or care who Randy Gitt is. He obviously had no eye for fashion either." His own comments on her attire she completely ignores; coming from someone not even wearing pants means they're pretty useless as far as actual constructive criticism and advice is concerned. She waves him off dismissively.

"Once again, you're forgetting who's in charge here. Why don't you grow up and go dress like your age instead of some sauced-up teenage punk?" She's trying so hard to get through to him, trying to think about angles she hasn't tried and yet she's so blinded by intense irritation at having to deal with him at all. Quiet note to self; never again allow Rico on another mission if she has any say-so.

Sauced-up teenage punk? That's the most offensive Dearing's ever gotten with her address, and he can't help but feel tickled pink that he's reduced her to this instead of offended, even if it's a dangerously close call. "Dearing," he says, voice heavy with mock disappointment as he takes a dainty bite of his cake. "Aren't you all about cultural acceptance?" He flicks his fingers at her, frosting and all. "That's terribly narrow-minded of you."

And oh, she's embarrassed, is she? Rico's starting to catch on. It's not his fault she has such offensively boring sensibilities, but if she's so bothered about his exposed skin...

"And just so you know, this is an extremely high quality garment," he says as he smoothes a hand over his jacket. "Gitt is a big name in the fashion industry. You know how many creds this would cost? The jacket alone would be eighty thousand." He picks up one end of his tie and throws it over his shoulder, pointedly exposing what little of his chest it was covering. "And this tie was hand-made in the Milano Enclave."

She glares at him, making a move to focus on his weird visor thing over ... absolutely everything else. "I am about cultural acceptance, but we're here for them, not your over-stimulated ego." She makes a small gesture to the crowd around them, "You could learn to be a little more sensitive to the feelings of others instead of just steamrolling everyone with your perverse sense of fashion."

Goodwill PR Tour!

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