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Faysal was fashionably late - why set up early, when he could set up now and allow their guests to see him in motion, executing every plan with flawless grace? The shadhavar approached his empty booth with a swish of his tail, setting down the items he had selected: first, a tablecloth, smoothed perfectly over the surface. Second, a few photographs exhibiting his charisma. Third, some sheet music demonstrating his skill and intimacy with the muse...

When it was complete, Faysal sat down and arranged his hair just so.

There. Perfect.

Snowman yawned as he walked towards his table, oh he needed to set up. He started putting things on his table relative to him including the SCREAM banner. Most of it looked like some sort of Christmas set up. Had he ended up seeing Santa instead of going to the human world?

He had a new brown miced tea with him, "Okay George lets make this booth look good. Got to impress the Boogeymen." He added pictures of himself in different situations. "This is a good one George don't you think it's a good one?"

He placed the picture of him working on fixing... well it was sorta fixing, a black and white skellyvision. "I did a good job fixing that George." He was trying to put around streamers though as he continued, the streamers kept breaking. He frowned, "That's okay they look better this way."

Roll 1: 3

Kani hadn't brought charms or trinkets. Why? This was lessons here that you took away, not some tacky keychain you add to the keys to your diary. She wasn't about to waste hours making little beaded necklaces to show she meant business, but it seemed that when looking at her booth title and her outfit, the connection of professional a**-kicker wasn't being put across. "Hey, I don't need to wear a stupid tie to do my job!" She shouted after a pair of students who laughed as they passed.

You could still kick someone in the face with heels. Why did everything think you had to be some muscular badass with a no-smile policy? Ugh! This was stupid!

Step 2: 4/8 Decent enough

"What sort of rumors about my staff?" He frowned at Vel, turning to look at d**k instead when he decided to cut in, "d**k, you wouldn't be able to pay for some of those if you break it,and no, we weren't talking about you. We were talking about-" He paused, "Nevermind."

He frowned at Rengath, and then walked away from everyone, grabbing a box from under his booth before putting each figurine into it; apparently there was a compartment for every figurine on the table, "Not for sale."

YEAH IGNORING THE DIVA.

Making a face at Avery's words, Ava loosed a sigh and pulled her pumpkin like mask from her head. It was too stuffy to keep it on for too long, she needed fresh air! Setting it down on her table, the ghoul folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side.

Avery..he was such a troubled boil. Well..not so much troubled..a handful. Or just a pain in the a**.

"Because that's the whole point of this, Avery. We're supposed to talk to them, so that they may take interest in us, and.." Why was she explaining this to him again? He already knew why!

Wrinkling her nose, the Dryad gave a perplexed look before letting her features soften again at the sound of a friendly voice. "Hello, Victor~" Clasping her hands together, Ava watched with glee as he moved to spruce up the behemoth's table. Vic was such a kind boil! Always looking out for others--even if they didn't appreciate it.

Taking Victor's hands into hers, she allowed him to spin her around a little before stopping again. "Ah, thank you~ I put a lot of effort into it. I hope your booth was a great success as well!"

What people she did manage to bring to her table, lured by colors or her figure, she portrayed the highlights of spending countless hours patiently doing nothing, every on guard of someone jumping out and slicing you to bits. While the parts about doing damage to someone's chest cavity seemed to spark interest, the hours of doing nothing and the mechanics and everyday schedule of a worker for a ward seemed to make others yawn and turn their heads to other, less technical booths. Booths that hopefully had cookies.

At the end of it, she was done selling herself to the masses, and managed a collection of cards. Huh. Not half bad.

Total: 5 + 4 + 2 = 11
11 - 18: You're pretty good at this! A lot of people have given you their cards

"I spose," Tex said, his eyes glued to the "makin' love" sign with a twitch on his lips that was threatening to become an all out laugh. "Unless you see something that interests you more," he said, not budging from where he was just standing there, staring. "Because honestly, I see something that might be... amusing."

Then he blinked down at the hand she'd just taken, only to look away for a second to hide a tiny little smile. She was holding his hand--by choice.

Murdoch's booth wasn't perfect, but it clearly showed off his personal grades, skills, and achievements over the past few years. However that was all behind a bright display of photos showing various images of him...

Cleaning floors.
Serving drinks.
Carrying bodies.
Shining a demon's shoes.
Acting as a lab specimen for various science clubs.
Wearing a tattered soldier's uniform.

And a number of other menial tasks. The pictures were obviously doctored, just is apathetic face pasted on them. He meant to make a point. That no matter his personal achievements, as a zombie this was where society would try to pigeon-hole him.