Closed starter for @malcolmgaunt

Wind gusts through shattered windows, creating a soft yet cavernous wail as it buffets the rusted metal structures within the abandoned warehouse. Broken bottles and other detritus, left behind by squatters or the previous unsavory tenants, roll around aimlessly. Most evidence of the recent criminal activity here has been hastily cleared away for reasons unknown. But the echoes of it still remain in the form of empty crates, overturned shelves, and spare furniture. Mysterious dark stains--blood, most likely--mar some of what was left behind. Everything within creaks in protest of the gale; if not for its solid construction and sheer size, it'd be easy for someone to feel like the building might blow away entirely.

On one of the upper levels, Lou shivers, one gloved hand clasped around a flashlight. The pitch-dark hall yawns before him. Even here, in a somewhat central location that isn't close to those massive, leaking windows, the biting chill of the wind is getting to him.

Closed starter for @rxdkillchef

Getting into the seedy bar was simple. Lou had been a bit worried that his fake ID wouldn't pass the smell test by the bouncer, but the guy had barely glanced at it, as if asking for it in the first place had merely been a formality. Maybe they really don't care who gets in here, Lou wonders as he steps inside, nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of spilled beer and sweat. Or they're so used to fake IDs that their veracity doesn't matter. I'm a new face. That might be enough identification on its own.

Lou neutralizes his expression and walks with his head on a swivel, subtly scoping out the place. He doesn't want to pretend that he belongs here, because it won't be believable--but he can at least not look like a fish out of water. The noise level here is, surprisingly, bearable, but his eardrums throb in protest nonetheless. Lou catches snippets of meaningless conversation as he weaves slowly through the bar: parties, sex, drama. Nothing of note just yet.

Closed starter for @cataleyatakahashi

Lou hesitates at the end of the hall, watching as people trickle past him to the entrance of the Gaming Club's room. He frowns and checks the flyer in his hand once again: it's definitely the right room and the right time. Yet his feet remain rooted to the spot. Come on, he chides himself as he folds up the flyer for the fourth time in the five minutes or so he'd spent standing here. I have to try. The people at their booth during the org fair were nice, and they made it sound fun... He sighs, at last cramming the flyer into his pocket. Besides, if it sucks, I can leave. Nobody will mind.

His heart pounds in his ears as he walks into the room. He's unable to conceal his nervousness, but he does manage to return a polite smile and a wave to the club's vice president, who he'd met at the org fair. Side conversations buzz throughout the room; it seems like a fair few members already know each other. Please don't tell me I'm the only new person here... Dread creates a cold, nasty slurry in his gut.