guess who!

[bronze]

what's this? it seems like there's a board game for you and a friend to play — one guess who, featuring all the guests currently in saltburnt! post a blank top-level with your character and play the game in the comments, keeping your assigned character in mind (you'll want a different character for each thread, fyi!).

for ease's sake, all threads will be outside of the au event 🖤

Comments

ani mikheeva.

[haggle]

[kobes]

Oh, um, here, these work better --

[he laminated his copy like a bingo sheet because he's a professional -- you get one too, ani :)]

Um, is yours...a man?

[haggle]

Sure. ( a dainty shrug, floaty syllables. ) If you want to generously call him that.

( her choice of colorful words whited out, confidential, on account she intends to win. she taps a nail idly, a static of tip, tip, tip on laminated plastic. poor suckers like koby always have to play fair, but how's the saying go? never look a gift horse in the fucking mouth? god, she loves nerds sometimes. )

What's the ass look like on yours? ( this is a legitimate line of questioning. ) Hot? Not?

[kobes]

I see. [a very serious sort of "mmm" sound, pulling a box of various-colored dry erase markers out of his bag next, offering ani first pick of colors as his gaze flickers across the laminated faces.

and then, wrinkling his nose, cheeks pinking:] Objectively? I don't -- have any firsthand experience, um. Very respectable?

...asking if yours is from earth seems. Insufficient now.

[haggle]

( knowledge tucked away as someone not in koby's little black book of good fucks. she bites back a winning, feline grin — not a cat going in for the kill, but enjoying the drawn-out thrill of the hunt. no obnoxious shade of blinding hot pink sits on the table, so she makes a grab for the next best: red, uncapped with a flick of a sharp nail tip. )

What, you're asking if they're, like, fucking ET? ( a scoff, pfft. a good distraction from wondering if that's the next mindfuck she needs to brace for. ) Yeah, they're from Earth.

( underscored by an implication: where else would they be from then, leaning in, slumber-party-sly, the kind that goes fishing for gossip in the dark: )

Do you want to have firsthand experience with their ass?

[kobes]

[koby's chosen blue, like the sea, like the horizon, and he carefully draws a series of "x" marks over everyone who isn't from Earth -- including himself.]

What's an ET? [then, pointing his marker at her:] That doesn't count as my question, um. Are they from your time period? More or less?

[koby's ears immediately turn the same color as his hair, and he stage whispers:] Ani. That's -- is that really your question? [huff, huff, blushing, looking down at the page again.] I-I mean. I wouldn't -- be opposed? I guess?

[haggle]

( through the thick, syrupy drawl of an accent: ) Extraterrestrial. Y'know. ET, phone home.

( will she be elaborating? all signs point to no. (un)helpfully, she wiggles a demonstrative finger at him. et, phone home. )

Yeah, think so. They'd know what ET is.

( between her molars, her gum snaps, crackles, pops. koby's splotchy face is almost an exact color match for the blotches of xs she's furtively scribbling down like einstein discovering an equation, little factors in every single one of koby's tells. not someone he's slept with. someone he would. not a girl. cute. it narrows down the playing field more than anyone might consider. )

Don't sound so sure there, babe. ( a laugh, more of a hyena-esque cackle, in its lack of restraint. ) Do they look like a Daddy?

[ailerons]

[ Breezily, ]

Are you sure you don't want to bet on this?

[ His more important, actual question being: ]

Do they have a job?

[haggle]

You asking me if I wanna rob a baby blind? ( it's him. he's the baby. mock-gentle, ) I've got a heart, y'know?

( counterpoint: a stance so casually deadly it had to be stolen from sharon stone, down to the smolder of ani's cigarette. basic instinct, interrogation table, treating a game like success is not just a possibility but a guaranteed fact.

so, breezily: ) Nope. Yours someone you know?

[ailerons]

Not enough of a challenge for you?

[ Plink plink plink go down the little faces. Jake hums, a noise that somehow communicates satisfaction and faux-thoughtfulness, all wrapped up in a neat bow of a grin. Pearly whites, gleaming focus. ]

Not biblically. [ Clarifying, ] I know them.

Could yours vote before the 19th Amendment?

[ He's a feminist. ]

[haggle]

Nothing's a challenge for me. ( accompaniment to the tune of slick confidence: a little shrug, so sorry, sucks for you, faux-apologetic: ) Some people are just born talented.

( as for the rest of it: her smile immediately pinches, nose creased, a crooked lemon-sour twist of her mouth to one side. jury's out on whether it's having to hear biblically, or gender study subjects spouted from the mouth of a man. (the only saving grace: no side dish of mansplaining to swallow down with it.) )

Okay. Gross. ( oookay. judgy, stretched syllables. ) Nah. Are they a pain in the ass?

[ailerons]

[ Turn for turn, pitch to pitch. Jake's voice goes whisper-lite, faux-humility. ]

I paid attention in class, Ani. [ Weird, how her judgy syllables make his grin kick upward even further. Like either way, she's given him a helping of something extra to hold onto, dislike, distaste, irritation. A beat of thought, before he allows, ] They are an almighty pain in the ass.

[ Without looking up: ]

What are you doing later?

[ Followed immediately by, ] —dark hair?

[haggle]

Cute. You must've been the smartest thirty-year-old in your kindergarten class.

( she's 60% confident she's locking onto target, slowly calibrating for the kill. bright odds on ani mikheeva's horizons, if her follow-up question wasn't sideswiped by another one: is this man seriously asking her what she's doing later in the middle of a fucking board game. she hiccups into a snort of an incredulous sound. )

Nope. Rule-break. ( with no obnoxious buzzer, her palm slaps down on the table, loud. ) You get one question per round, and it's gotta be yes-or-no. Try again, Einstein.

[masticated]

[why is he here. why did he get stuck playing this stupid game.

hello anora. henry saber is here to brighten your day!]

Is your person someone who looks like they refold their napkin at the dinner table when they're done?

[haggle]

( unexpectedly, she barks out a laugh. a reward, bonus points, for creativity. none of that do they have a beard? shit. )

Christ, no. I hope not. Is yours your type?

( even if she's categorized that as somewhere in the vague realm of alive and breathing and within five feet of saber. )

[masticated]

[her laugh gets him grinning, but he lacks a certain salaciousness that comes with his territory.]

Fuck yeah, they are. Could your person take me in a fight?

[haggle]

( she leans back, like she's making an assessment — weighing the odds of a bet between two cage-fighters. a twist of her head for a better angle. a squint of her eyes flickering over him. )

Yeah, probably. ( her smile is less bared, mean teeth. more the amused glint of something conspiratorial. ) Do we work with 'em?

[masticated]

No shit? Okay, okay. Hold on, I gotta look at these guys.

[quick glance up. he says guys on purpose, wondering if he'll get a hint from her face without a question and double up on answers.]

Sure do work with them last time I checked. Are they taller than me?

[haggle]

( ani's used to guys who hunt her for freebies, guys who make their own decisions based on their translations of her body language. his only clue: a widening twitch of her smile. could mean warmer, could mean colder. could mean she's bloodthirsty in competition, and has the sense she's on the right trail. )

No. Shorter. Is she blonde?

[temporicide]

Do you think your person would jump a turnstile?

[haggle]

( well — )

I don't think they'd let a turnstile stop 'em. ( whether that's jumping over it or destroying it ... same thing, probably. ani laughs, shrugs. ) Would you sleep with yours?

[temporicide]

[ There occurs in her head a mean little square joke about herself, how much would that narrow it down?, one she only doesn't make out loud because it'd be so attention-seeking in its self-deprecation. Without much further consideration: ] Sure would.

Would you let yours house sit for you?

[haggle]

( her teeth catch on her lip, a drag that nips back an extra little fluff. there's an amused spark, matches in her eyes, anyway: )

Yeah. For sure. They wouldn't burn my shit down. Does yours look like they have a gym membership?

[temporicide]

Yeah, I mean — yeah, they do. [ She comes within a hair's breadth of introducing a determining pronoun, disrupting her bearing with a huff of something like laughter's ghost. ]

Now one of the boring ones. Guy or girl?

[haggle]

( so close to a slip-up. ani groans, dramatic — edged by the possibility of a playing advantage, for ruined pay-off in the end. )

Fuckin' tease.

( said warmly, almost approvingly. )

Guy. Yours someone I know?