2019-09-21 - Lets Get Plastered

Dylan has used his time wisely in preparation. It's in the back three seasons room that an area has been cleared off, and a kitchen table chair has been moved in to serve as a good spot for Mae to rest when they get to making the base. The kitchen and living room is separated by a half wall that serves as a counter, and it is there that he has a few bottles of water set out for that recommended hydration, a bag of sour cream and onion chips, a bag of pretzels, and a big chunk of cheddar cheese. Look, he's a college student, you snack on what you happen to have!

The man himself is waiting in the kitchen, and he's put on a ratty old pair of jeans that have seen better days, along with one of the worst offender t-shirts he has, one that used to be white but looks like it got dunked into multiple paint cans. When you are doing messy work? It's best to wear something that's already been through that particular battlefield.

Mae shows up, wearing what might be a top if it were on a five year old. On her it's tight and barely covers her breasts. Some jean shorts and a pair of flip flops complete the ensemble. She has a shopping bag in one hand and her purse in the other. She is bouncing to the song playing on her cell phone. Her hair has been pulled back in a braid, anticipating that things are gonna get messy.

Knock Knock.

She waits for Dylan to open the door, sending out a text on her phone while she waits in the bright sunshine.

Love pulls up outside and parks, pulling a collapsible wagon from the back. She snaps it open, and pops the trunk on her black 66 Mustang, unloading two plastic buckets, a couple of boxes of alginate, a couple of bags of hydrocal, several rolls of plaster bandages, and sundry other tools dumped into the buckets. She uses the wagon to wheel it all up at once, dragging that thing up to 8 Elm.

Love also carries a bag over her shoulder with clothes for later, because just now she's wearing a back coverall with short legs rolled up, a pair of black rubber flip flops, and a black bikini top under it. No jewelry, long hair pulled up and out of her face into a topknot. She means business.

It's not a long way, all of a handful of seconds before that door handle rattles and the door itself opens up, revealing the bright eyed face of Dylan. Those bruises are completely faded, leaving only the stitches that seem well on their way to mending, likely to come out in just a few more days. "Hey," He offers to Mae, and in he leans to give a brush of his cheek against her own if she'll allow it, a show of affection before he steps out of the way to let her in.

"Lemme help," Dylan's voice raises when he spies Love and all of the gear she has, stepping out in his bare feet to pad down the sidewalk to grab bags or buckets, whatever she'll hand over to him. She gets a gentle bump of his shoulder to her own as a show of hello, and back up towards the house he trudges.

Mae presses a brief kiss to Dylan's cheek when he brushes against hers, and then dances into the house, too caught up in her song to be polite and help. She makes her way to the kitchen and snags a bottle of water, twisting the top off as the others make their way into the house. "Oh shit, sorry." She says, setting down the bottle so she can make her way back toward the pair. "What can I take? Where is this stuff going?" She looks pretty excited though, a smile on her face.

"I can't wait to see how this stuff goes, I'm excited to see what you two come up with for masks." She's almost bouncing on the balls of her feet, her braid bouncing with her. "And I'm excited about tonight!" She gestures toward Dylan. "I invited him to come to the pits, figured he might enjoy it."

"Hey hey. Slight change of plans." Love hands over some supplies to Dylan as he wanders up. She nods her thanks and squeezes his arm as combo hello/thanks. "You can only pull a single bust from this stuff, but I figure we just cast a dude and then we have one of each face shape. It also dries faster than the other, so that's a win." They have plans later, after all! The masks won't fit exactly to everyone, but it's better than casting from a balloon. Demi masks can be tied on or held, so they don't need to be exact. That said, Mae's mask is going to fit her the best of all of them.

"You're good, Mae. I brought my wagon so nobody's gonna strain themselves carrying." Inside they go, and Love nods, "Yeah, I think he would. I mean, you already know a bunch of us. May as well get some margaritas and food and enjoy a night by the fire among friends." Any excuse for some chill times with good people.

That arm that Love squeezes is kept offered to her as the ascend the steps and get through the door, and then he leads the way towards the sunroom, letting Mae take one of the things from him if she wants. He's clearly learned by now not to deny her if she wants to help! "Back room," He chimes out towards the pair as he heads to that three seasons room that serves as his art studio... and now, a temporary mask making facility. The bucket he has is put down by that chair, and then his head bobs up and down in agreement with Love, a thumbs up given to her at those change of plans.

"Will come," He assures about tonight, a lopsided smile offered up towards the pair. "Drink. Sketch." Because conversation isn't exactly his strong point. His brow furrows as he watches the pair for a heartbeat, lower lip caught in a moment of nervousness by his teeth before he finally offers up. "Basement? Mask?" To see which of the two they want to do first... raid the mysterious basement, or plaster Mae's face and make a fun mess.

Mae is gonna let Love decide what they're doing first, because she's just here to offer her face as a mold. Clearly there is a timetable and she knows she'll get lost looking around in the basement for hours if someone let her. She take the offered bag and takes it to the back room, glancing around, hands on her hips. "Am I going to be able to breathe while this is going on? I didn't bring straws!" She walks back out to the living area, flashing a smile at the pair. "Gonna probably need a shower after this. Then I gotta figure out what I'm wearing tonight. Something short and airy, sundress weather.. maybe?"

She glances to the door she hasn't explored yet in her times in the house. "That the way to the basement or is it in the kitchen?"

"Let's get the mask going first, that way if we fall into a hole of ephemera and awesomeness, Mae still has time to clean up before the booze fest." Love glances over to the dancer. "You ready for some meditation or quiet thinking time? You don't be able to hear us well once we start, but all this stuff cures fast, so it's not that long." Not that long by Love standards may not be not that long by other standards. "I cut a straw, you'll have straw holes. I've had one of these done on me, and it's a little hard getting used to at first, but if you need to stop for any reason, just hold up a hand. It gets pretty heavy for the last bit, with the plaster strips on. Yeah, definitely need a shower after." She hefts a smaller bucket, some alginate, and says, "Sundress is good. I brought a slinky little one. Just gonna throw it over a swimsuit."

Clothing talk! Dylan's face contorts into a bewildered look, giving a subtle, sidelong look to Love in a clear, 'OMG I Hope She's Got This' expression. Thankfully the dancer posits that question, giving the man an easy out on what he should focus on instead. "Basement," He chimes when she points to that door. It does have a lock on it, but currently it's been unlocked in anticipation that people will want to be nosy and go down there, at some point.

"Shower," He confirms to Mae that it'll be a good idea once it is all said and done, and he casts a glance towards the kitchen clock to judge the amount of time they have. Plenty! Once Love gives the clear and smart directions so they don't fall into the bottomless pit that is Dylan's basement, he reaches out to Mae's arm, gently taking it to lead her towards the chair. "Get comfy." He offers up, a brilliant smile cast towards her.

"Great minds think alike. I got a new pair of fancy flip flops I'm gonna pair mine with. No underwear though, gets in the way." Mae walks toward the back room where they're going to make magic plaster happen. "I'll be good for some quiet thinking time. I have an idea for a new set, and I'm gonna try to get it down in my head before I practice at the dance studio next week." She slants a look at Dylan, grinning. "I brought the outfit with me and one of my palettes, so .. if you'll let me use your shower after.." She trails off, and sits when Dylan all but gently puts her in the chair. "Comfy. Right."

She takes a deep breath and waits to be worked on. She looks completely at ease, crossing her legs, her hands folded in her lap.

"Less is more. It's fucking hot out there." Love drags bags and buckets, headed down to the prepped area, and she shoots a look at Dylan that says we're good. She seems so sure! She's not, but Mae looks calm. Love looks calm. Must be true! "We got this. Easy peasy."

"So, first the rubbery stuff, it goes on like cake batter and cures up fast, like five, ten minutes. Then the plaster, which is heavier. Cures fast too. I'll check on you with a touch to your knee. If you're good, touch my hand. If you need out, raise your hand. Ok, we need bare shoulders and your hair up under the swimming cap." Love starts sorting buckets, "Water, D?" She holds up a smaller one, ready to mix the goo. Luckily, all of this stuff is safe to go bare skin/bare hands on. "And a plug... while I do this, want to help her vaseline the edge of the cap, and face and shoulders?"

As much as he might try to be collected, Dylan is still a guy at the end of the day, and when that tease comes from Mae, along with Love's own thoughts of a slinky dress? His eyse can't help but slide over each to admire and imagine, and it means he's a little slow on the uptake of answering the dancer when she asks if she can use his shower. "Oh. Yes!" A puff of air is pushed out, quick to remember himself.

"Kitchen!" He goes to fetch said water in the provided bucket, coming back to drop it off and pick up the vaseline. He's a dutiful helper in this regard, clearly trusting Love in her abilities! Off the lid comes on that jar, waiting for Mae to get all of that hair up and under her swimming cap before he teases, "Bet you..." A hand lifts to waggle that vaseline and point at him, letting her fill in the planks about what those playful words might have meant to express. He'll get busy them, serious enough about the whole endeavor as he starts to make certain every bit of her shoulders, face and neck are covered, just as instructed.

Mae pulls her hair beneath the cap and brings out the vaseline, opening the top so she can dip her fingers in. She quickly swathes it across her forehead daubing along her skin as she hums to herself. She holds up the container so Dylan can get into it. "Don't get any ideas." She murmurs to him, winking before she turns to watch Love sort things and get ready. She's humming a song under her breath, letting Dylan do his things with his fingers. "I haven't eaten yet, so when my stomach starts doing that growly thing, just be nice people and pretend you don't hear it, it sounds like a bear sometimes."

She takes a deep breath as Dylan moves to coat her shoulders in the greasy stuff, mentally preparing herself for quiet time. "Can someone put music on, that will calm me down more than anything else. Even if I can't hear it well."

Love busies herself with a drill and a mixer bit plugged into the wall. Power tools! She grins, watching the liquid smooth out to a battery consistency. All the rest is bare hand mixing. It's totally lofi. She's not grinning over vaseline and ideas, absolutely not. Since she has clean hands, she pulls out her phone, letting it loose on Spotify. It begins with a vintage jukebox cover of Black Hole Sun.

"I called in orders at a couple places, some woodfire pizzas and the Chinese place, lots of dumplings and the most popular. I blew like $300 on food, so I hope people show." She glances over, "You two better be hungry tonight."

"Thanks for agreeing to help on this... I would have been blatantly fucked if everybody said nope, too busy." Does Love overcommit to projects sometimes? Yes, she does. Sleep is optional in the pursuit of art, though, and it always gets done one way or another!

Dylan casts a far too innocent look towards Mae when she speaks to him, his voice offering up in such a sweet tone, "Who, me?" before he goes about smeering that vaseline upon her, taking care to make certain it is neither too thick nor that he misses anyplace. Up his hands lift, making him look like the goo man as that excess vaseline runs down fingertips and over his hands, making him ever so thankful that Love has the music all taken care of. His head starts to bob in time with it, back and fourth, and off he disappears to the kitchen once more to wash.

When he gets back to the entry of the three seasons room, he just watches a long moment, and for once the expression on his features is soft and understated, a barely there smile. "Two," A hand lifts, pointing at the pair of them, "unbelievable." But it is said in a positvely affectionate way, his head just shaking a bit before he slips back in to see what, if anything, he can give a hand with. "Always help," Dylan promises to Love in a tone that shows for him? It's no big deal at all to be thanked for. "Plenty hungry."

"Christ, really? Chinese and pizza.. dumplings? Holy shitballs. I think I love you, is it too early to propose marriage?" Mae asks, gazing up at Love with wide eyes, goo all over her head and shoulders and neck. How romantic. She shrugs a shoulder and nods her approval of the music. "Hey, I like keeping busy, and I am spending far too much time getting into trouble. So you're helping me out."

Mae grins back at Dylan, and then she schools her face to something neutral, tilting her chin slightly so that Love can get started. "Might have to fight me for the dumplings Dylan, I'm a sucker for Chinese food. I'll knife a bitch if they get in the way of my eggrolls, dumplings and shrimp fried rice. I don't like to draw blood over food, but don't mess with me."

"I knew I could count on you both." Love smiles, lugging the mixed goop over to put it on a nearby surface so they can both reach it. She says, "I ended up in a chapel once. Can't say that I have the best impulse control." She raises her brows, but doesn't elaborate on the story. Probably it'd take too long and they're on the clock. "I got... so many dumplings. Seriously, people are going to think I have a potsticker problem. Triple eggrolls. So many ... just easy finger foods, really." An army of dumplings, egg rolls, and pizza is going to show up tonight at TIBS. The staff won't know what hit them when they're constantly running pitchers of margaritas out to the lower deck all night.

"Okay, ready to go?" She hands over the two inch straw tips. "If you can just put these in and hold them in place while we apply this stuff. Lightly hold. It feels a little weird on your skin, but nice, like a huge mud mask." She fishes an inked hand into the bucket, swirling it lightly.

An overexagerated look comes from Dylan at Mae's words, his eyes going big, and a grimace of panic seeping over his features as he promises, "You first." when it comes to thsoe dumpings. It's when Love describes just how much food the woman has ordered that his brows knit up in a genuine look of concern for the question that is rumbling around in his head. "Many people?" A tick of his brow comes upwards. He stays where he is at, just to the side, prepared to help out however Love needs once Mae is all settled and ready for them to start.

"Enough people, we work with them. It shouldn't be too bad." Mae murmurs, nodding as she takes the straw tips. She holds them and closes her eyes, waiting for the goop to begin. She can't really talk now so she'll leave Love to give him any other pertinent information that needs to be passed along.

"I don't know, fifteen, thirty? Depends on who comes and who crashes." Love hefts a handful. "Allonz-y! Eyes closed." And that's how she warns Mae before the handfuls of oozy goo are smoothed against her skin. "Smooth then build up. We have about five to get good coverage..." She goes in with both hands, gently smoothing. "Here we go. Try not to move your face too much for five or so. When we cut you out at the end — don't worry, butter knife — flex your face like crazy. See you in a bit, sweetpea." She speaks softly, as is her custom when she's not behind a bar with dance tracks thumping through the club.

MONTAGE OF THE ARTING! 80s style cut-scenes:

Love & Dylan slog on the cake-battery thick jelly, smoothing it over Mae's skin, swallowing her head and shoulders like a slow blob.

Totally covered, Mae's head and shoulders encased, only the little straws protrude. It chunks up and thickens.

Love picks some drying peels off her skin and checks on Mae's state of mind with a brief touch.

Plaster! Dylan wets strips and smoothes out the excess water, passing them over and both he and Love begin to form the mothermold around Mae's head and shoulders, starting with a huge seam.

Covered in plaster! Mae's straws protrude like little catfish whiskers. Love snaps a selfie, tongue out, horns thrown with her free hand, trying to convince Dylan to join. Instagram later will tell the tale.

Love jams a hand into the chip bag, flecks of plaster on her skin.

Dylan, mock horror — Love didn't wash her hands first!

Dylan casually eating chips.

Mae covered in plaster. Straw whiskers.

Love sitting on a toilet contemplating the flaws in wardrobe design that force you to sit with your entire outfit around your ankles. She picks some plaster off her inked hand, then pulls a length of toilet paper off the roll, idling pulling open a cabinet in the bathroom with her toe to nosily check for bongs.

Dylan, sketching, clearly having washed his hands <--- the tidy one.

Mae: plaster!

Both artists go hands on, peeling the mother-mold open, gently cutting along the back of the inner mold to peel it free of Mae, releasing her from her prison of rubbery goo & plaster. They invert the mold, soft inside hard, into a bucket once it's secured with duct tape. High five, bitches! It worked. Plaster's poured slowly, filling, and that baby's set for a cure overnight.

Cue up one instagram photo with Love throwing the horns and Dylan's hands close to - but not quite touching - the straw, a look on his face of wide eyed innocence, his other hand lifted up to rest against his cheek all Home Alone style. Then there is the small plastic baggy of joints, not a bong, that Love finds as she's nosing around his bathroom cabinet, which probably isn't the surprising part. That'd be the fuzzy pink handcuffs they are sitting on top of.

Sketches all done, the mask set, finally it is mission accomplished, unfurl that banner! He's watching Mae with baited breath, head tipped to the side to see how she responds. Ask her how she is? No. He knows just what will tell her state of mind even better than that. He leans in, voice lowering to whisper inticingly, "Basement?"

"Holy shit." Mae breathes as she's peeled free. "I feel like I was gone forever." She mutters, getting to her feet, picking debris off of her skin. She glances toward the basement door and then back to Love and Dylan, eyebrows raised. "Basement, then shower. Two showers. I hope your shampoo doesn't smell completely masculine." She tells Dylan, brushing past him on the way to the tempting door.

"That wasn't so bad. Good thing I'm not claustrophobic." She makes a face, sticking out her tongue before she pulls the door of wonders open. "Light switch?" She asks, feeling along the wall.

Okay, so maybe a joint goes missing, though some cash is tucked up under the baggie. The handcuffs are relocated. Dylan will find them later, most likely hanging from the fridge handle.

"Welcome back." Love grins and offers over a bag of chips to Mae, brushing a gob of vaseline off of her jawline. "You did good. Tomorrow we'll have a perfect replica of your head and shoulders, and then the masts begin. We can design around whatever color you want. White, red, purple... I think I'm going black and silver." Big surprise. She makes her way down to the basement after the other two, bringing up the rear of their caravan.

When Zoiya is up and at them so readily to march off towards the basement, he casts a look to Love, a dazzling smile flashed her way. "She's fine." It's just a brief pause for him to consider that statement about his shampoo, a moment of introspection as he considers what that means she thinks /he/ smells like normally, but one can worry about such weighty, world changing things later. He hesitates a moment, that corner of his lip captured by his teeth again. "This side," He finally speaks about the light switch. And after a moment of the living room lights flashing on and off, Mae will surely find the right one next to it. He slips down between the pair of them, the dancer leading the way, the painter bringing up the rear, and Dylan their basement viewing prisoner. He steps off and to the side, out of their way, lurking by the stairs so that they can do what they will.

The stairs of the basement are creaky old things, but it leads to a surprisingly spacious area with ample height room. At some point, the original owners must have thought they'd expand down here, but never got around to it. The wide open space is cram full of a variety of stuff.

In one corner is a boxing speed bag, looking old and well used, with a few handwraps next to it that show it sees frequent use. A whole wall has a variety of old bookcases, crammed full of hundreds of sketchbooks. They are all organized by year and then subdivided by people, places, ideas and more.

The last part of the basement serves as storage for a whole slew of physical things that might make future art projects. From small collections of beads, feathers and coins to larger items such as chandeliers, wigs, metal parts and odds and ends. Each has expired past it's normal use, but might make for a fine arts and crafts project.

Mae, of course, only having an artists soul when it comes to dance, makes her way over to the punching bag. She pushes it lightly, making it swing before she steps over to the sketchbook stash. She looks staggered by how many are here, so much so that she doesn't attempt to touch any of them. She remembers why they're down in the basement so she turns away from the things that drew her attention and walks back to the storage and what's inside. "Oooh." She says quietly, pulling out some beads, sitting down on her ass to start poking through them. A feature catches her attention, it's bright red and curled. Then she's digging through a box, the top half of her immersed in her search.

"Very tidy." She calls out, still head first in the box. "Huh, this is neat. It looks like a metal beak or some hook thingie."

Love wanders down to pause at the base of the stairs, careful where she puts her feet. Creaky stairs, basements. You never know. Her attention goes almost immediately to the sketchbooks. She smiles at that, and wanders in deeper to the space. "Wow."

"You weren't kidding, babe. This is basically tailor made to what we'll probably need. Some spray paint, some air-dry clay and a sewing kit, I bet we can make anything we'll need down here." Which is good, because she hasn't got the studio space here, and they have only weeks to work. Love's fingertips skim Dylan's shoulder. "This is perfect. We're going to have to work fast, but we're also gonna make some bank." If they assembly line the masks, working on a bunch at a time, they can probably make enough for themselves, the Platinum cast, and several left over to sell to those with cash but no artistic inclination or time to try. And then Dylan can buy more stuff for his stash!

Dylan watches ever so carefully as Mae walks along that wall full of shelves of sketchbooks, and that? Is clearly the part he was concerned with showing off. "My life," He murmurs in a gentle explination, one shoulder lifting up into a hapless shrug. Indeed, the arrangement goes back all the way to the year one would guess Dylan would have been eight. "Dad salvages," He explains once the two are over by the collection of materials, making it sound like a Job rather than a Hobby for his father. "Recently organized," He offers up sheepishly to Mae when she calls it all tidy, a hand lifting to vaguely motion around the basement, as if a couple months ago they might have found it far more messy.

"Use whatever," He promises to them both about this particular stash, for that part of it? It holds no sentimental value, and this sort of thing is precisely why he has it. It's Love's touch to his shoulder that has his closest arm coming up instinctively, touching fingertips against the small of her back as if in a silent thank you. "All doable," He states with confidence about the timeline, and once more that large smile flashes, showing the whites of teeth as the more expressive norm of the man takes over once more.

Mae comes up, beads in hand and a few feathers found. "I feel like if I use all of this my mask will be more New Orleans and less Labyrinth." She puts the stuff back into the container, glancing back at the pair with a grin. "So at some point I'm gonna imagine that we're getting together to assembly line some stuff. Maybe I'll be the runner or something, I can paint something if it's obvious what I need to paint, but I'm not gonna be the best at it."

She gets to her feet, walking back over to the sketchbooks. "No wonder you're so good at sketching, this looks like it goes back a pretty long time." She turns to look at Dylan. "Can I look at some of these sometime?"

The grey-eyed woman glances at the sketchbooks, but doesn't touch them. They're private until offered. "Mine's less organized than yours," Love says, fingers flicking through an assortment of feathers. She finds a few dusky grey flecked with black, and an assortment of lovely long white ones, a few curling gently.

"I think so. I think it's doable." Which is good since she already committed them. "All of them will need priming and some stuff will need spray painting a base color. And we can show you some painting techniques, Mae." She makes her way down to look through some of the beads too.

She sifts through and pulls a string of silver beads, setting aside a few items they can surely use. She smiles softly, and turns her gaze to Mae and Dylan, a few faceted black beads in hand.

"Base primer," Dylan offers up in agreement with Love for one of those things Mae can do, and once more his eyes watch attentively as she gets closer towards those sketchbooks again. One can see him weighing that question in his mind, head tipping back and fourth, before finally the question comes, without any further reservation. "Yeah." His head cranes, looking over at the things that Mae had pulled out, and his eyes glitter with a touch of amusement as he considers how they might be used. "Figure out," He promises about how they all might be utilized without it being over done.

His own gaze turns back to Love, watching her just as she does the pair of them, before finally a small smile curls to the corners of his mouth. He'd caught that look surely, and after a puff of air is pushed out, he offers. "Both can." Up a hand comes, ruffling through his hair in a touch of a nervous habit, before that conversation turns to something more grounded towards the painter. "Still looking?" His finger points upwards above them, reminding her. "Spare bedroom." It's an invitation to poke around, though for all he knows? That's where the joint magically disappeared during their whole plastering scene. It's the center of the room he goes to, which is still nice and wide open, a perfect place for setting up everything. "All nighter," He murmurs about it, whenever it is they decide to make a go of it this week, and his hand points to himself to making arrangements, "Food. Beer."

She doesn't pull out a sketchbook yet, no she's heading toward the stairs. "I'll be back." She calls, climbing up to the first floor. "I'm going to take a shower, I feel gross and slimy." Mae's voice fades as she gets to the first floor and then her footsteps can be heard as she makes her way back to the bathroom. The shower turns on and for a few minutes there are just noises. Water starts, it stops and if one were to go up and check up on her, she's getting washed, getting dry, putting on make up, putting on her sundress. She lets her hair just go curly, and when she walks back down to the basement, she looks normal Mae.

"You mean sleepover?" She asks when she appears, moving over to kneel near Love, her eyes on Dylan. "Food, beer.. spray paint."

Love brushes her fingers up along the back of her neck. She finally washed her hands earlier, though she does have a few spatters of plaster on her black coveralls, she managed to keep most of it on the mold where it belonged. The best part about helping hands is you make less of a mess of yourself in the building process. She puts down a selection of items clustered together in a little tin. "Yeah, sure. I'll go have a look."

Come to think of it, even a temporary stay over would be good, to get the project rolling. It's a lot of masks, just for the Platinum people, adding into it however many Byron wants could tip the scales to several all nighters.

"It'll take us a few days to get the bases ready to sculpt the details, but once everyone chooses a color scheme, it'll be easy enough to start the masks." And hair pieces for the ladies to match.

While Mae's showering, she says, "I'll bring my brushes and kit over after the event tonight." There's probably some chattery small-talk on Love part, about colors and gilding and faux gold leaf.

"Don't slip!" Dylan chimes out happily for some reason to Mae, a glitter of mischief in those features as he finally turns his attention towards the large stash of stuff. Up to his tiptoes he comes to pull down one container, the lid flipped open, and even now? He isn't browsing for himself. He's only all too happy to listen to any chattering, putting in his literal word or two here and there.

"Get count," He comments about tonights event and the masks, even as he taps upon his fingers, clearly trying to do some basic math, but he doesn't know all of the folks at the Cabaret. "For dance?" He inquiries as to /why/ they are doing it all, filling in some of his own blanks while waiting for Mae to return.

And once she does, it's clear he still isn't browsing for himself. He'd noticed the feathers and accents of red Mae had picked out, and he pulls out an old flapper fan with large feathers of a similar color, in case this is an accessory she might want to add on. Such things are fresh in his mind after the link Love had sent! The painter doesn't go unloved either, so to speak, for a different, smaller fan is pulled out, a black thing with silver accents and designs carved out of it's fans which appear to be made of some faux bone material. "Accessories," The are is left out, "everything."

"Byron wants extra masks? He smelled very rich, are you gonna charge him a premium amount?" Mae asks Love, settling down on her ass, her long inked legs crossed at the ankle. She looks relaxed now that she's showered, dressed and made up. She looks at Dylan for a moment, and she sees him holding a flapper fan, her eyes on the colors. "What are those?" She says quietly, a smile working its way on her lips.

"It should be easy to get a count tonight during the invasion. I hope to actually be of some help. You'll just have to nudge me every so often, because when I get sidetracked it sometimes get legendary." Mae holds up a finger, shrugging a bare shoulder. "I want to help, and once I'm on task, I'm pretty good at sticking with it. Just need to get nudged."

Love says, "Twenty, give or take." Love takes a moment to calculate that up. "I need to get in touch with Byron again, to clarify and ask for his color preferences. Make sure he only needs one or two." Who knows how fast this order will grow.

Love glances over to see Dylan pull out a few accessories, then looks when he says that, showing off that black and silver fan. That's perfect." She nods her thanks, corner of her lips quirked. "You bet he'll pay top dollar." She laughs. "Rich dudes value quality and they pay for it. Plus then he can tell everyone his mask was handcrafted by local artisans." She nods, surveying the gathered materials. "We're going to pull this off." It's the first time she's sounded sure and been sure as well."

That red feathered fan is held out to Mae so she can see for herself, but not after giving a wave of it towards her to send a breeze upon the beauty. "Fun distracted," He counters about keeping her on track, an ever so innocent look creasing his features as he offers a gentle nudge of his leg against Mae's shoulder.

That black and silver fan is handed over towards Love, a flash of a smile curling to the corners of his mouth as his head gives a deep, bobbing nod in agreement to her when she says they'll be able to do it. "No problem." He concurs, before a hand lifts to tap against his wrist and the make believe watch that isn't really there. "Get ready." He murmurs, so that they don't accidentally spend the whole night pulling everything out of his semi-organized art horde.

"I do need to go monopolize your bathroom again for about twenty minutes to make sure my make up is on point." Mae gets to her feet, patting Dylan on his cheek, flashing him a quick grin. "You gonna walk to the bar with me, Dylan?" She is already heading to the steps, stomping upstairs. "I have a few others coming as well, maybe. We'll see if they can be bothered to show up." Soon she's gone again, back in the bedroom, playing with her make up.

Love takes the offered fan, snaps it open and wiggles it briefly. She slides it closed with the flick of her wrist, sliding the feathers along her arm to test the softness. "Mahalo, babe." She lays it out along the table.

Good call, Dylan. They'd have the room in a mess of pulled supplies in a matter of minutes. She nods to the upstairs. "Gonna grab my bag and change, swing by the motel on the way. "See you two there?" She has some calls to make, too, confirming the food and double-checking the bar has enough ice and ingredients on hand for the gallons of margs they're gonna drink. If not, she can gather than from the Platinum. "Bring your appetite. See you soon, sweetpeas!"

In Dylan leans against that pat, flashing a warm and affectionate smile flashed towards Mae as he murmurs, "Of course." about walking her to the bar. Love's words has a warm ripple of laughter from him as she tests that fan, and he calls out to her, "See there," He sticks down in the basement for a few long minutes afterwards, doing whatever he does down there while the pair of women go off to get ready.