Hypnopics Collective

"Is this thing on?" After booping the mic carefully with her snoot, Kit cleared out her throat with a testing yip-ypip. Then grabbed the microphone in her mouth and ran away with it quickly. Several minutes later, with much grumbling, Kit eventually returned to the stage. More specifically, to her stool. Placing back the much dirtier, yet thankfully still functional microphone in its stand.

"I've been told I can't take this until I've done a full minute." Kit woefully informed the audience. "SO! ...Have you seen Dis, have you heard about Dis?" She opened with her usual (mostly rhetorical) question. Her tail wagging swiftly, as it nearly always did. "Beautiful city, lots to smell. But boy, oh boy. All the big city demons are in such a hurry all the time! And get this...they're walking on two legs to get around!" An objectively hilarous insight, yet Kit was just warming up to her big zinger. "If you ask me, they've Dis-cidedly got some bad ideas!" After waiting out her full remaining time for the standing ovation, Kit politely bowed to her audience and scampered out again. Obviously, with the microphone in her mouth. They'd have to get a new mic for the next act, but it was surely a small price to pay for even a moment with a celebrated comedian like Kit Kaboodle.

After Desdemona dropped the mic, it ran across the floor for a moment. Before coming to rest at the elegant heels of another blonde. She stooped down. Picking up the microphone and moving it back to the stand. Delicately placing it back in its place. She paused for a moment. Looking out across the room. Reaching up. Tapping a nail softly against the device. Before smiling sweetly.

"Well. I can tell you what isn't a joke. The Chained Cross Sermons at that Cathedral of theirs."

She closed her eyes.

"I hear they tend to drag-on."

She tilted her head softly in amusement. Before she left the stage. Returning to her table. And her drink.

After the first performance ran off of the stage, another woman would step up to the middle of the podium. She'd clear her throat and looked at her notes, clearly more comfortable with public speaking.

"Three ninjas have run out of chips to bet, so they asked the dealer if they can make different type of deal."

The woman gulped.

"A tea bet."

Cough. Blink.

"Tibet. Tea bet. You know, where we're allegedly from?"

In a scramble, much like the first, she ducked off of the stage for the next person to take the stage.

A message sent to Astrid is delivered to her. Though it isn't exactly clear how, it's not like Yvonne had an adress or well.... not one the mailman delivers to anyway. Maybe she hand delivered it?

"My master, my mistress, my lady. Thank you for showing me the way.
It is something that I will hope to one day repay.
I hope you will teach me so much more.
To you it is that my oath I swore.
I would ask, may I spend with you this valantine's day?"