[Working beneath Gilgamesh? No problem! Assigned to someone else entirely? Nobody cares! Because Gilgamesh has set up a makeshift booth of his very own just outside the big tent, grinning and waving at any fresh meat that happens to pass by. The sign above his station simply reads "Got questions?" and of course implies nothing in the way of answers. He's just sussing out their new stock with his typical hands-on approach.
And he may get very handsy with you, going as far as to pull you over into his space.]
You are looking a bit directionless, friend. How may I be of assistance?
[The kind of "assistance" he's offering seems obvious. It would be best to assert personal space before he takes too many liberties with it.]
mandatory public embarrassment.
[Naturally, some newbies were more reticent than others when it came to belting out classic hits before their peers. But not Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh was setting a great example for all to see—but most especially the Ringmaster—and nailing each and every song on the machine. Or, depending on your definition of talent, murdering them hideously.
He is clearly drunk and clearly intent on not stopping anytime soon.]
AND THAAAAAT MAKES ME LAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGER THAN LIFEEEEEEEEEEEE!
[Something's not quite right with those lyrics... maybe you should step up to correct him. Or maybe he's grabbing you anyway for a duet. What's next on the musical agenda?]
obligatory radio post.
[You're probably busy at your post right now, or at least with some other pressing matter. But the voice that reaches your respective radios doesn't appear to care about that, slow and sultry and all but purposeful in the way it utters as if right beside your ear:]
So, what are you wearing?
[Spoilers: he's trolling. And not doing the best job of hiding it, either.]
wildcard.
[Come at me with something and we'll work with it.]
gilgamesh | veteran | open
[Working beneath Gilgamesh? No problem! Assigned to someone else entirely? Nobody cares! Because Gilgamesh has set up a makeshift booth of his very own just outside the big tent, grinning and waving at any fresh meat that happens to pass by. The sign above his station simply reads "Got questions?" and of course implies nothing in the way of answers. He's just sussing out their new stock with his typical hands-on approach.
And he may get very handsy with you, going as far as to pull you over into his space.]
You are looking a bit directionless, friend. How may I be of assistance?
[The kind of "assistance" he's offering seems obvious. It would be best to assert personal space before he takes too many liberties with it.]
mandatory public embarrassment.
[Naturally, some newbies were more reticent than others when it came to belting out classic hits before their peers. But not Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh was setting a great example for all to see—but most especially the Ringmaster—and nailing each and every song on the machine. Or, depending on your definition of talent, murdering them hideously.
He is clearly drunk and clearly intent on not stopping anytime soon.]
AND THAAAAAT MAKES ME LAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGER THAN LIFEEEEEEEEEEEE!
[Something's not quite right with those lyrics... maybe you should step up to correct him. Or maybe he's grabbing you anyway for a duet. What's next on the musical agenda?]
obligatory radio post.
[You're probably busy at your post right now, or at least with some other pressing matter. But the voice that reaches your respective radios doesn't appear to care about that, slow and sultry and all but purposeful in the way it utters as if right beside your ear:]
So, what are you wearing?
[Spoilers: he's trolling. And not doing the best job of hiding it, either.]
wildcard.
[Come at me with something and we'll work with it.]