METTATON (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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lostcarnival2016-11-16 10:20 pm
mettatronic) wrote in lostcarnival2016-11-16 10:20 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] It's a wide, wide world out there.
Who: Mettaton and OPEN!
What: God's non-explicitly self-proclaimed gift to the carnival thinks he'll learn the existing landscape and schmooze among those already present.
Where: All 'round the grounds and then outside the big top.
When: S1:D13, afternoon and post-show.
Warnings: N/A - will update appropriately if that changes!
A. Here and There.
[Mettaton comes away from the signing of his contract feeling absolutely no less than on top of the world.
Figures with relationship to his sense of scope that he does already understand that "the world" here in fact encompasses multiple worlds. Multiple worlds that oooh-hoo-hoo yessss, are going to know his name before long!
But in the meantime, well. He had reason to know upon his conversing at the entrance with that nice fellow, whatsisname, Gottlieb, that not everyone here's from a place that'll recognize him, and so... it makes sense to see to it sooner rather than later that his apparent business associates here do know his name first and foremost.
With a deep, deep preemptively satisfied smirk on his face, he struts around the carnival grounds looking to flag down anyone who seems to be doing anything more than wandering exploratorily.
He really does wave them down, cocking an eyebrow upon singling them out before dialing up his grin into whichever corner of his mouth is closest to them and then waving.]
Ah-ha!
Yoo-hoo, there!
[The "yoo-hoo" is a singsong adding dimension to something... polite, in his book.]
Got a moment, beautiful?
["Moment", one's ass, by the way - give 'im an inch and he'll take a mile, if he can help it.]
B. Outside the Big Top, Post-Show.
[Aaand knowing that other people don't know him is one thing - it's another that he's officially a billed performer here and that the rest of the showbiz folks (or... you know, performers, since not everyone involved in putting a show together necessarily need be automatically assumed to be held to a particular standard of panache here.
He's going to evaluate everything according to his own, still - yes, he's not even been here for more than a day, but goodness, he is a first-degree star!
And to conduct that evaluation, he'll be... diligently watching the night's performances over at the main tent. Appraising everything, quirking his brow and mentally throwing negative "ohh, dear" and positive "ohh, my" comments.
When the performance concludes, he'll be hanging outside the tent with all the swaaaag one can hold in a non-strutting and not-technically-swaggering posture, waiting to catch one of those who performed.
And when he does catch someone, he'll tilt his head in a fashion expressive of a sort of "huh...!" and take a measured kicking-and-pointing step if necessary to enter a range from his fellow performer that he weighs to warrant acknowledgement.
He does it with one-man applause, steady, sharp, and staccato, one hand hitting the other vertical-onto-horizontal.]
Braaah-vo!
[It's not a sarcastic slow-clap - though the amount of color and inflection in his tone of voice will depend on... the level of pizzazz and flair he weighs the performer he's addressing to have put into their routine.]
Bra-vo, darling.
What: God's non-explicitly self-proclaimed gift to the carnival thinks he'll learn the existing landscape and schmooze among those already present.
Where: All 'round the grounds and then outside the big top.
When: S1:D13, afternoon and post-show.
Warnings: N/A - will update appropriately if that changes!
A. Here and There.
[Mettaton comes away from the signing of his contract feeling absolutely no less than on top of the world.
Figures with relationship to his sense of scope that he does already understand that "the world" here in fact encompasses multiple worlds. Multiple worlds that oooh-hoo-hoo yessss, are going to know his name before long!
But in the meantime, well. He had reason to know upon his conversing at the entrance with that nice fellow, whatsisname, Gottlieb, that not everyone here's from a place that'll recognize him, and so... it makes sense to see to it sooner rather than later that his apparent business associates here do know his name first and foremost.
With a deep, deep preemptively satisfied smirk on his face, he struts around the carnival grounds looking to flag down anyone who seems to be doing anything more than wandering exploratorily.
He really does wave them down, cocking an eyebrow upon singling them out before dialing up his grin into whichever corner of his mouth is closest to them and then waving.]
Ah-ha!
Yoo-hoo, there!
[The "yoo-hoo" is a singsong adding dimension to something... polite, in his book.]
Got a moment, beautiful?
["Moment", one's ass, by the way - give 'im an inch and he'll take a mile, if he can help it.]
B. Outside the Big Top, Post-Show.
[Aaand knowing that other people don't know him is one thing - it's another that he's officially a billed performer here and that the rest of the showbiz folks (or... you know, performers, since not everyone involved in putting a show together necessarily need be automatically assumed to be held to a particular standard of panache here.
He's going to evaluate everything according to his own, still - yes, he's not even been here for more than a day, but goodness, he is a first-degree star!
And to conduct that evaluation, he'll be... diligently watching the night's performances over at the main tent. Appraising everything, quirking his brow and mentally throwing negative "ohh, dear" and positive "ohh, my" comments.
When the performance concludes, he'll be hanging outside the tent with all the swaaaag one can hold in a non-strutting and not-technically-swaggering posture, waiting to catch one of those who performed.
And when he does catch someone, he'll tilt his head in a fashion expressive of a sort of "huh...!" and take a measured kicking-and-pointing step if necessary to enter a range from his fellow performer that he weighs to warrant acknowledgement.
He does it with one-man applause, steady, sharp, and staccato, one hand hitting the other vertical-onto-horizontal.]
Braaah-vo!
[It's not a sarcastic slow-clap - though the amount of color and inflection in his tone of voice will depend on... the level of pizzazz and flair he weighs the performer he's addressing to have put into their routine.]
Bra-vo, darling.
a.
Or, at least, he considers turning up his nose. What follows Mettaton's cry legitimately makes Alois stop and reconsider his mood. That is to say, he likes to be complimented.
He ends up waffling somewhere in the middle, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his shorts and rocking back on his heels (which measure in at a couple of inches).] Perhaps even two, [he says,] depending. [He reacts with neither immediate falsehoods nor direct snottiness, which is... kind of a rarity for him.]
B
[Of course, her performance had been pretty stellar.]
B
[It's possible that he's seen the redhead with wings and antlers lingering around the edges of the performance as well, a sharp and analyzing look on his face with every performance. Even though they'd been on opposite sides of the tent more than once, Mettaton might have gotten the impression that he'd been doing much the same as the robot himself.]
[Joker even looks good for once; performance weeks are cause for him to dress up with help from costuming, after all, something he doesn't normally bother with considering one arm makes things a tad tedious. Just ignore the dreamcatcher that's been tied to one of his antlers.]
Seems like you've got quite a lot of opinions on show business, don't ya?
A.
Admittedly, it makes her curious so she comes when she's called.]
Yes?