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Dottie came, she saw, she heavily questioned her life's choices, and she began planning Nash's imminent demise.

'Hello, my name is Ezekiel.'

Tossing the sharpie back on the table, Zeke turned to look for his name on the whiteboard, picking at the backing of the name tag as pale eyes slowly slid down the list. By the time he found his name--right there on the bottom--he'd manage to peel the backing off so he could affix it to the upper left of the dark sweater vest he'd paired over a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. The jeans were dark, on the newer side, and the leather shoes were worn, but taken care of.

He'd actually shaved, leaving only a small patch of dark auburn at his chin, and his hair had been run through a stylishly mussed with some product or another. Both tattoo on his right arm, and the burn covering the whole of the left, were very visible, standing out against the white of his shirt sleeves.

"Merric," he read off to himself, arms crossing loosely. "and Thomas." Interesting. Was this Roswell the personal assistant to Lysander? Or was this the brother? Zeke couldn't say he'd ever paid much attention to the whole of the other man's name on twitter.

He didn't know the first, and he didn't see the second, yet. He did see Ever though, and the Life was given a long look and a smirk before he looked away with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Oliver had shown up, still not entirely sure what it was he had been signed up for. There were... pillows. It couldn't be a movie night, not without any means of playing movies, and that was about as far as he could reason out the abundance of cosy floor space.

Then he noticed what was written on the whiteboard. Maybe this was a team trust-building workshop or something. It still didn't quite make sense though, why would he have been signed up for that sort of thing without being told what it was?

He grabbed a name tag, there were a lot of new names on that list, his own partner included, and he had been off the island for far too long.

Momo strolled into the room in her usual punk themed attire. Black off the shoulder Misfits shirt, black and grey plaid skit with a couple chain loops hanging off a belt concealed beneath the edge of her shirt, grey leggings and bright red checkered boots. A small black choker around her neck held together at the front by a thin metal heart.

Normally Momo would have let others come to her. But that was real world tactics. Here on the island she had to be a bit more aggressive, at least it seemed that way. Her social scene was limited....or she had just become a recluse due to work. She preferred to dismiss the later.

The room was definatly not what she expected. Though it wasn't like she wasn't used to no chairs, but no tables? At least with the massive pile of pillows she could sit on something. This didn't seem like much of an atmosphere for "speed dating".

At least compared to other speed dating settings she had seen.

But whatever.

The short Mist Hunter's bright turquoise hair stood out like a sore thumb as she crossed the room towards a list hanging on the wall. Violet eyes scanning over the names as a long, dark red finger nail trailed down the list until she found her own name and who she was paired with.

"Frederick Roswell..." Oh man, that was a name. Though she supposed at least they weren't named Skippy or Chadwick. Or Keith....

Unsure if they were even here or not, Momo turned to the table with name tags. Grabbing one for herself and scribbling her name on it before sticking it to her shirt. Quickly turning towards the room again, hands on her hips.

Writing neatly with a marker proved to be more effort than Merric had originally thought.

As did actually going through with what was happening in this room.

He stood a little off to the side while he fixed his nametag in place, glancing around at everyone already gathered. He caught sight of Lysander, curled up on the floor, and tried to ignore the way that his heart seemed to want to leap out of its chest, Merric hastily turning away before his red face was seen. Melvin, as well, was speaking to someone; Merric's gaze moved beyond Melvin to the whiteboard, skimming the list of names.

Surprise - and relief - that he was apparently with Roswell faded into confusion at the third name next to his own. Merric opened his mouth, wondering if it was a mistake, and heard his own name spoken by someone a short distance away.

He was vaguely familiar, both from Twitter and elsewhere. "...Ezekiel?" Merric asked tentatively, stepping just a fraction towards him. "Are you...Ezekiel?"

A young man with dark brown hair stepped into the room, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He was, perhaps, vaguely familiar to some and not at all to others, but the familiarity was only in the eyes and a little in the face, with nothing else to suggest that he had been here before.

He ambled over to the board, looked at the names, then scribbled his own onto a nametag glancing around cheerily.

"Is there a Cami and a Tommy around here somewhere?" Iskander asked, brows raising.

His head tilted at the sound of his name, eyes flicking away from the list of names and onto the pale haired man that had just stepped closer to him, and he smiled invitingly to him, arms unfolding so he could offer his hand in greeting. "I am, or Zeke if you'd rather."

The Roswells were twins, and he knew what they looked like--well, he knew what the one looked like, and the other couldn't be that different, features wise--this wasn't either of them, so that meant... "And you're Merric." There was the barest hint of a lit to his voice to make it half a question. "So I guess we're just waiting for our third. Do you recognize the name?"

Zeke wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting, though fact that Merric was blonde had the Mist smiling. Aside from one notable exception, most of the people he seemed to keep company with lately were blonde. It was starting to look like he had some kind of preference.

Micah had located a decent-looking button-down to go with his jeans and steel-toed boots. He was not dressed formally, but neither was he entirely scruffy. He had even shaved just before the event. It wouldn't do to look disreputable for a date, even if it was a blind speed date kind of thing.

"Lucky Kercher?" he read off the whiteboard, and turned around to scan the room for whoever that was. He hoped that she was at least cute, and maybe even not too crazy.