i. puzzle quest (and daring deeds) | closed to jughead jones
[There are two things that should be said right at the start: that Keith is utterly unprepared for what lies ahead, and he doesn't even know who's waiting for him. His urgency is less palpable as a result, but he still feels the need to throw himself into this. There are people who are in need, and he wants to help them.
He just ... really, really wishes, for the first time in a while, that he could walk in, claim that he's a paladin of Voltron, and get the door to open. So to speak. It's not even an ego thing. It's just—
Well, where he and Jughead find themselves is at a mural on a wall outside of one of the pharmacies that isn't located too far from the safehouse. Keith's arms are crossed as he looks at the art, and his eyebrows furrow.]
I knew I should've gotten some kind of ... notepad. Thing. [A beat.] For the implant. I mean for the implant. [It's hard to sketch out without one of those, uh, air. Stylus. Things.]
ii. parties suck | ota
[Here's another two things about Keith: he doesn't want to be here, and while he isn't the type of person who's completely opposed to Fun, this isn't his scene. In fact, this is worse than the wild strip club next door that Ciri had placed their last meeting at. That is, it's worse for him, because the moment he ducks inside, he's assaulted by the numerous people, sights, and sounds, and he doesn't know what to do.
For a while, anyway.
But once he gets his bearings, he sets out to start an investigation. Again, he doesn't know who's there—
—or it's a little while after, and he's returned, and he still hates it, but he wants to find out who would leave the "newcomers" (so to speak) at a party like that. He reaches out for the arm of a familiar face, and tugs them close. He doesn't want to be close close, but—well. Talking. And it's loud.]
Have you seen anyone here who, I dunno—looks shady?
[A vague question.
And a poor one.]
iii. bringing people together (with store bought goods) | safehouse | ota
[When Keith isn't haphazardly investigating the ball—or driving people home from it, as he still has his day-night job—he comes to the safehouse to drop off some baked goods. That he bought. Most of them are sweet, but some are savory, with crushed bugs mixed well with the various other products so they aren't visible. They were purchased at a grocery store, so they aren't special ... but they aren't bad, either.
While he's setting them up on a plate—which is, for the record, opening the boxes and dumping them onto the plate—he looks up toward whoever's entered the room to offer them a nod.]
These are for everyone. They've been my breakfast lately. [And lunch. And dinner. He's been busy so they make it easy to not think.] They aren't bad.
[Food brings people together, and he's tried the pep talk and support game.
And it's blown up on his face.
So ... he'll stick with food for now. Hunk always has the right idea.]
iv. wildcard
[If none of these prompts work, let me know or hit me up in PMs!]
keith | voltron | mostly ota!
[There are two things that should be said right at the start: that Keith is utterly unprepared for what lies ahead, and he doesn't even know who's waiting for him. His urgency is less palpable as a result, but he still feels the need to throw himself into this. There are people who are in need, and he wants to help them.
He just ... really, really wishes, for the first time in a while, that he could walk in, claim that he's a paladin of Voltron, and get the door to open. So to speak. It's not even an ego thing. It's just—
Well, where he and Jughead find themselves is at a mural on a wall outside of one of the pharmacies that isn't located too far from the safehouse. Keith's arms are crossed as he looks at the art, and his eyebrows furrow.]
I knew I should've gotten some kind of ... notepad. Thing. [A beat.] For the implant. I mean for the implant. [It's hard to sketch out without one of those, uh, air. Stylus. Things.]
ii. parties suck | ota
[Here's another two things about Keith: he doesn't want to be here, and while he isn't the type of person who's completely opposed to Fun, this isn't his scene. In fact, this is worse than the wild strip club next door that Ciri had placed their last meeting at. That is, it's worse for him, because the moment he ducks inside, he's assaulted by the numerous people, sights, and sounds, and he doesn't know what to do.
For a while, anyway.
But once he gets his bearings, he sets out to start an investigation. Again, he doesn't know who's there—
—or it's a little while after, and he's returned, and he still hates it, but he wants to find out who would leave the "newcomers" (so to speak) at a party like that. He reaches out for the arm of a familiar face, and tugs them close. He doesn't want to be close close, but—well. Talking. And it's loud.]
Have you seen anyone here who, I dunno—looks shady?
[A vague question.
And a poor one.]
iii. bringing people together (with store bought goods) | safehouse | ota
[When Keith isn't haphazardly investigating the ball—or driving people home from it, as he still has his day-night job—he comes to the safehouse to drop off some baked goods. That he bought. Most of them are sweet, but some are savory, with crushed bugs mixed well with the various other products so they aren't visible. They were purchased at a grocery store, so they aren't special ... but they aren't bad, either.
While he's setting them up on a plate—which is, for the record, opening the boxes and dumping them onto the plate—he looks up toward whoever's entered the room to offer them a nod.]
These are for everyone. They've been my breakfast lately. [And lunch. And dinner. He's been busy so they make it easy to not think.] They aren't bad.
[Food brings people together, and he's tried the pep talk and support game.
And it's blown up on his face.
So ... he'll stick with food for now. Hunk always has the right idea.]
iv. wildcard
[If none of these prompts work, let me know or hit me up in PMs!]