𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄 ▣ SEPT TDM

[saltburnmods]

SEPTEMBER 2024 TDM: LUGHNASADH

Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember — dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.

Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using « NEW CHARACTER/IN GAME» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.

WELCOME TO SALTBURNT

It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isn’t, stay in bed and wallow — eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe it’s normal for you. Maybe it isn’t.

You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room — have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Haven’t you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?

EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.

That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:

THE EGGS

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐘: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐊𝐀: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
𝐎𝐄𝐔𝐅𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
𝐄𝐆𝐆 𝐌𝐂𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐇: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.

THE SWEETS

❖ momofuku's "cereal milk" ❖
❖ fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss ❖
❖ a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping ❖
❖ a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling ❖
❖ poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection ❖

If you want to leave, you’ll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as he’s as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, there’s no reason why you can’t just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesn’t want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they can’t make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, though — this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?

Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, it’s all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.

"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."

ITSY BITSY TEENIE WEENIE

CONTENT WARNINGS: drugs, alcohol, nudity, potential for nsfw.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin

It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels — TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided — that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.

Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires you’ve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast — but really, you haven’t had any trouble with that, here. Have you?

If you’re thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since they’ve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.

As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend you’re snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.

FRUITS OF LABOUR

CONTENT WARNINGS: body horror, gore, cannibalism.

Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather — a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.

What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do — from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!

In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular — a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.

At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes — steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air — get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.

The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?

Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.

DIRECTORY

taken
activity check
setting

reserves
rewards
rules

applications
hiatus & drop
faq

Comments

oliver daye | original | new character/new player

[meca]

i. welcome.

( it feels like an average, ordinary morning at first. oliver doesn't wake up on his own, but begins to stir as soon as the curtains are torn away from the windows and light filters through. from under the covers, he gives the most pathetic, bitchy whine and raises a hand to grab hold of the pillow and shove it over his head. because the hangover? also relatively standard. his hand presses under the pillow, fingers moving over his ri--lack of rings, and that's when he starts waking up.

bleary eyes squint out beyond the bed, taking in the colors of the blankets he's shoved under, the room around him, and oliver opts to roll himself right out of bed and onto the floor along with his comfortable blanket.

he lives here now. or lives there for several more moments, because fuck mornings and fuck waking up, and especially fuck waking up when he's missing legitimately every charm he's refused to remove for years. slowly, he climbs up to his feet, ignores his wardrobe, and wanders out into the hallways in the tee and boxers he'd been sleeping in.

so he can find the closest person and reach a hand out to grab onto them. )

Hey.

( he's not awake. but he is squinting at them. )

What the fuck?

ii. itsy bitsy.

( the pool is, thankfully, inside. it saves oliver the effort of bitching about how too bright the sun is, that no amount of sunblock will prevent him from burning. and yet despite it being indoors, he's still lounging under an umbrella with his sunglasses low on his nose in his black swim trunks. in his hand is a bright green solo cup, which he idly sips down while keeping an eye out for others who show up.

when someone comes up close enough, he lays down on the chair and reaches down to the side for a paintbrush dipped in bright neon pink. he raises it with a small grin curling the corners of his lips up, leaning in a little closer to his new companion. )

Want to do me a favor? I need a canvas. And it probably won't fuck you over. Probably.

iii. handfasting.

( oliver tolerates a fair amount of contact from others. he'd argue he's not really touchy-feely, but he lets nick lounge all over him, and frequently hangs all over pierce. but being tied to someone is less than ideal. when he's shoving himself into someone else's space, there's always the option to pull away. now?

he's frowning down at their tied together hands, fingers flexing. )

What time is it? ( can he sleep this off. )

iv. wildcard.

( throw whatever at me, and i'll run with it! or yell at me at crowbars and we can plot something out. )

i

[chokedout]

Good morning, sunshine.

[Theo has yet to dress at all, save for the toga-wrapped sheet he's got on - he also wandered out into the halls most immediately, seeking out familiar faces and this one is bound to disappoint him in only a few moment's time. But like a magnet, he sticks to Oliver with a sleepy half-smile, gaze flicking him over while he sits in a moment of relief. Whatever's going on is new, weird, probably rigged not-in-their-favor but together is a lot better than on his own.]

What the fuck is right, though.

[meca]

( he's got the same, long, fluffy hair theo would have gotten used to - lacking the line down his throat, and the numerous glamours hiding the damage of a boy turned corpse turned... reanimated boy. because it hasn't happened yet.

because oliver hasn't died yet. because he's just barely gotten used to waking up in pierce's massive mansion, surrounded by luxury he'd wormed his way into through years of hanging off of his friend's shoulders and leeching off of him because what else was he going to do, figure his shit out himself? nah.

good morning, sunshine, the guy says, and oliver raises a hand to shove his palm over his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. )

It's way too early for this.

[chokedout]

[What's it called when you hold out hope on something 'til the very last second, desperately trying to hold on to the illusion of what you thought was there? Oh, you just call that what Theo's doing here, now? Fair enough. He's got a smile on his face though it softens away as he peers down the hall, looking each way before leaning back against a door frame and snuggling into the blanket he's now got draped over his head, pulled tight around his neck like a fluffy cloak.]

Dooooo you have any idea where we are? I don't.

[meca]

( he's still tired. oliver yawns, hand moving down to cover his mouth, but he's - you know, he's getting there. slowly. )

Never seen this place before in my life. I think?

( he vaguely remembers arriving here. doesn't remember why or... anything else about it. how high was he. damn. speaking of,

don't mind him as he squints over to theo, while he attempts to - see if he can place who the hell this guy is. )

Do I know you?

welcome

[extent]

[ nick doesn't especially like to have complex thoughts before noon, so he's not done much to question the circumstances that he's woken up to up until now. it's easier to just hunker down over a dry piece of toast and grumble that he's too sleepy to fix his hangover--under his breath, nick doesn't actually want to talk to anyone yet.

except he hears a familiar voice, and his head immediately snaps up. ]

Oli?

[ sorry to whoever it was that oliver was trying to engage in conversation with, but nick is immediately on his feet and crossing the room, pounding head be damned. he inserts himself in the space between, and tomorrow he'll probably feel bad about being rude and try and cast his mind back enough to remember who the person was to apologise, but today he's just pulling oliver into a hug and grinning. ]

The fuck did we take last night?

[meca]

( it's been a little while since he's last seen nick. enough that the what the fuck did we take last night has him - pausing for a moment to try and figure out if they had taken something last night because he's pretty sure he'd been at pierce's estate. but maybe he hadn't been. maybe he'd never left nick's place. maybe they had gotten their fingers into something fucky. it'd make sense.

nick grabs onto him and holds tight, and it takes oliver a good few moments to wake up enough to wrap an arm around him and dig his face right into the curve of nick's neck. )

Hell if I know. But I've got the worst headache of all time. Nick. I'm dying here.

( he is not. he's fine. even if he's leaning into nick and pressing all his weight against him, refusing to hold up his own body weight up. it's nick's problem now. )

[extent]

Oh, come here. I've got you.

[ he clicks his tongue sweetly, a teasing tone dripping with sympathy as though he's making a joke of it, and not very earnestly going to take care of oli. of course nick is going to take care of him.

nick winds his arm around oliver's waist to keep him upright, but there's definitely a limit to how long he'll be able to maintain that so he turns to guide them back to the chairs lined around the big dining table. it'll be easier to fix both of their hangovers if nick isn't worried about tumbling over while he's working. ]

Do you think it's rude to ask for a coffee?

[ under his breath and quiet. nick doesn't spend a whole lot of time lingering in houses on morning afters, the etiquette is a little lost on him — even in a house fancier than the one he grew up in. ]

[meca]

( see, this is why everyone should keep a nick around: easy hangover cures. although the moving isn't ideal. oliver huffs when nick starts to move, but - neither of them has the muscle mass needed to hold the other up for long, so it's, you know, fair.

he noses in against nick's neck for a moment, briefly humoring the idea of digging his teeth in hard just for fun, but ultimately opts against it. instead, oliver sinks into one of the chairs around the table and scoots it over just enough he can hook his ankle around nick's chair.

just because he can. a hand raises, shoving fingers through the mess of hair falling into his eyes to push it back and away, before he raises a hand to wave towards one of the staff. )

Coffee? Pleaaaase? Hangovers without caffeine are killer, and my resident healer doesn't function without his morning bean juice.

gdi oli

[behavioural]

( after his rather unpleasant exchange with grace at the drip, pierce has not been able to forget that oli might be lost somewhere in the multiverse, getting entangled with people who he don't know in a setting he is unfamiliar with. he tries not to let it bother him too much, since there really isn't anything he can do about it right now; but it never feels good to be the one left in the dark, especially when it concerns his best friend.

so, when he catches sight of oliver daye within the manor, he is stuck between wanting to punch him in his fuckin' face and pulling him into a too tight hug.

he does neither. instead, with a cig hanging from his lips, he calls out to him from across the hall. )

Over here, dipshit. ( #friendship )

[meca]

( it's a voice he'd recognize anywhere. one that has him immediately looking at every nearby surface for something to throw, because fuck you pierce. unfortunately for oliver, there is nothing close by to grab onto and toss - at least nothing that takes minimal effort. he could grab the table, but that feels like work.

instead he turns around to face pierce. considers, briefly, just flipping him off and continuing the way he'd been going just to spite him. ultimately decides spite takes effort and effort isn't something he's willing to commit to currently so he saunters his way down the hall to pierce instead. )

Where's mine, asshole? ( there's no actual malice, which becomes more evident when oliver moves in close enough that there's barely room for the cigarette between them, and reaches a hand up to snag it from between pierce's lips. his now. )

[behavioural]

( it's almost immediate, second nature the way pierce's arms wrap around oli, pulling him close against his chest like he naturally belongs there. a relaxed smile settles in place, softening his usually sharp features as he looks down at him. he doesn't try to stop him from swiping the cig from his mouth. )

Where did they take you from, Oli?

( he gets straight to the point. oliver would never lie to him and he needs to know if his story matches grace's claims. )

I've been here for two months, so help me out here.

[meca]

Where?

( hold on, he's leaning into pierce's arms just enough so he can take a long drag from the cigarette. it's not as if pierce would ever drop him, so he has no problem with expecting him to hold him up. especially given how close they are. )

Your couch. The big red one that your Roomba constantly gets stuck under.

( is that specific enough for you. )

i

[godspark]

[ dani moves to support him on instinct, warm hands taking hold of him to set him upright on his feet again. that gets him a better look at oli's face, although oli looks like half of him is still elsewhere. ]

Hi. Are you alright?

[ maybe he had a rough landing. or a rough night. his face isn't familiar, but there's plenty of people here dani still doesn't know. ]

I'm going to breakfast, if you're looking for it.

[ that's a face that needs a coffee in it, he's pretty sure. ]

[meca]

( are you alright, he asks, like that's even vaguely an acceptable question before morning coffee. the only reason oliver doesn't get snarky with him is because his hands feel nice, and oliver's busy reaching for one of them to hold it between his two cold ones. not like... dead cold, just anemic cold. )

I need caffeine before I can like, ( nts: keep this guy around, he makes a good furnace. ) remember sentences. And figure out where I am.

[godspark]

[ oh, he's cold. dani lets him keep that hand. this boy needs some sunlight, he thinks. and maybe something hot to drink. ]

Breakfast has coffee. They've hot chocolate too, if you ask. They just don't advertise it. Come on, it's this way.

[ this house is a maze at the best of times, and it's not above trickery. moving hallways and staircases, rooms in the wrong place. dani's used to it, but not so much that he's forgotten how overwhelming it can be for someone new. especially someone with morning fog in their head. ]

They call it Saltburn. The house. We're all guests of the Balfour family, you'll meet them later. And I know you never got an invite, none of us did. None of us know anything more than that.

[meca]

( what he needs is to return to his nice fluffy warm blanket in the nice fluffy warm bed and go back to bed for another twelve hours. but this guy's hand will suffice for now. especially as he goes on explaining bullshit oliver doesn't get. like the house having a name (what kind of weirdos name their house?) and being the guests of some family whose name he also doesn't recognize. not that it's - super surprising. even among witches back home, oliver only pays attention to shit he thinks will benefit him. he could explain the weird complicated web of pierce's family, messy as they are. couldn't tell you jack shit about most others. )

Do they have an espresso machine? Or am I going to have to makeshift a latte?

( black coffee is gross. edible in emergencies, but nothing oliver would choose to drink. granted, he could always just pour the hot cocoa into the coffee and makeshift a mocha. regardless, he doesn't know where he is, and this guy's not an asshole, so oliver doesn't mind tailing him around for now. )

ii. itsy bitsy.

[rationalism]

[ grace pulls up short, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as she moves closer to oliver and his paintbrush. she exhales a stream of smoke, automatically holding her cigarette out of the way so no ash lands on him. ]

Probably, [ grace repeats, trying not to frown. luckily she has a lifetime of coaxing her expression into a smile, unluckily as daniel has called her out on, she's too expressive for the smiles to ever land perfectly and it doesn't know. ]

Sure. Do your worst.

[meca]

( unfortunately for her, she's already marked by oliver, which means - despite her trying to hide behind a smile, he's already well aware their situation likely mirrors what theo had said to him previously.

but he opts to not mention it just yet. instead, oliver throws his legs over the side of the chair to leave plenty of room for her and gestures down to the space he's emptied. )

Show me your back?

[rationalism]

You'll have to take a picture so I can see. I'm not an owl.

[ can't turn her head all the way around! she does sit in the offered space, reaching up to sweep her hair into a handful, twisting it over her shoulder so it won't be in the way of whatever pink monstrosity he's going to paint on her.

a dick maybe. ]

[meca]

( it is, in fact, not a dick.

oliver waits for her to settle comfortably before he twists around so he's mostly facing her, and starts - with a large circle, one that spans from where her shoulder blades end to the curve of her lower back. )

You don't even know what I'm doing.

ii

[longlegs]

[ Hand on her hip, Cellar's bikini is glossy pink, her cup and bracelet code for it's complicated, all a perfect match for that paint. Just one thing: ]

I'm not a fan of 'probably'. What's in it for me?

[meca]

( don't mind him as he looks her over, head to toe. he's not looking for anything in particular, but rather - inspecting her in his way.

the corners of his lips quirk up after another moment, offering her a satisfied little smile. )

Depends. What do you want?

[longlegs]

[ She returns the favor, brow arched and all, lips pursed to the side. It's for show: Cellar had the answer at the ready the moment he asked. ]

Information. [ Specifically: ] What you know about this place.

[meca]

Okay.

( it's an easy enough answer. oliver doesn't mind sharing what he knows - mostly because he doesn't know jack shit about anything around here, which pisses him off more than he wants to let on.

but she's not asking for specific details about the place. she wants to know what he knows.

he pulls himself upright into something closer to a seated position, and gestures down to the lounger, )

You first, babe.