#damienbaskov

Floyd had just managed to sneak his way into the kitchen, past the caterers, who were supposed to keep people out. But he was fast. Faster than all of them. And that, combined with a bit of stealth, was all it took for him to get behind the scenes, where he'd be able to mess with the meal. It was an obvious way to prank, but it was effective, so he didn't mind. As long as he got his mischief...

But all of a sudden, the room started shuddering, practically pitching from side to side, sending Floyd immediately scurrying under a table, hoping nothing would fall on him. His mind knew it was an earthquake, and was telling him to stay put, but the boy was confused nonetheless. This was Maine, they weren't supposed to get earthquakes. Definitely not ones that caused the contents of the room to fall out of place, and the power to suddenly go out.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the room stopped moving, and Floyd crept out from under the table, surveying the damage done. The room, or the parts he could somewhat make out in the electricity-less darkness, were a mess. "Stop the building... I wanna get off..." he muttered, not aware that someone could hear him, or even in the room with him. "Now what?"

Travis was at the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he surveyed the crowd. There were plenty of eligible women around, ones who'd fall for him in moments flat. But they weren't the ones who held his attention. On top of all the women, there were a few men here and there, and one in particular caught his attention.

It was a man Travis had seen around before, but never talked to. His posture, the way he watched the people, even the drink in his hand, reminded Travis a lot of himself, and he couldn't help but wonder if he may be good company. With plenty of enemies in town, and few friends, it couldn't help to have someone similar around, in his corner. And Travis was curious, wanting to find out more about this man, and why he seemed so familiar.

So, downing his drink, Travis put the glass down on the table before crossing the bar, walking over to lean against the man's table, eyebrow perched high on his forehead, "Travis," he introduced himself, a grin playing on his features, "Nice to meetcha."

Kellan was in his sister's trailer, a puppy peacefully dozing by his feet. He usually would have been out working, but Estelle had forgotten to arrange for a place for her dog to stay, and so he'd found himself agreeing to stay home and watch the husky. He didn't care too much, the dog was a good one, and despite Estelle's inability to ignore how cute he was and train him properly, he was potty trained, so it wasn't much of a problem for Kellan. There were worse things to do than entertaining a dog.

Absentmindedly, he reached down to play with it's fur, eyes sliding half shut as he allowed his mind to wander, deciding to nap when the dog did, to make his life easier. It was his job to cook dinner tonight, and that would be an ordeal considering that he and Kyrie were low on everything, which mean an intense grocery run, but he could deal with that later, after Estelle came home, which would be late, considering that she was working extra, for once. But for now he'd enjoy the relative peace and quiet.