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To say Alifax was accustomed to being in charge was a gross misrepresentation of the facts at hand. In Alternian society, that wasn't how it worked. Usually Alifax followed. At best, he was a grubsitter: he'd become very accustomed to that role, of late. What with shepherding first Dairah and Kursha and Forera around, and then Frossa (young Frossa, Alifax had to remind himself - though he'd never met Frossa the first time she'd been a little three-sweep-old wiggler) and her sweets-obsessed friends, Alifax was getting to be old hat at...okay, no. Maybe he wasn't any good at getting them to do what he wanted. But he could keep them out of major trouble, at least, and that was good. Alifax did find that in general lusii were a lot more threatening than trolls could be: he wouldn't cross one for anything, even now.

Still, the facts were these. First, Hazzan was becoming scarce. Second, Frossa ran from a hint of maturity now: she couldn't be depended on to do anything. Third, the NFL (they still hadn't come up with a satisfactory title for it beyond the acronym, which left a satisfied taste in Alifax's mouth - usually that was Hazzan's job, after all) needed overseeing. Finding FLARPers was so hard in Queen Regina's reign - no offense to her, of course. They'd said in the old days of Internet you could look up match partners online. Now, of course, you had to go out and find someone with a floppy grub, and dedicated FLARPing grounds were rare. That was why they'd conceived the NFL in the first place.

It was just...no one had ever imagined that a redblood would be the one in charge. Hazzan, maybe. Probably. She was the clouder of the group, right? Frossa, possibly. For her money. But unassuming Alifax had always been there just to provide literal firepower.

Now he was supervising the drones, most of whom had probably had higher blood than Alifax did when they'd been younger, as they did their work. This was the very definition of unexpected. "I'm taking a break," he told the head contractor, consequence in his eyes. "I'm glad everything seems to be in order, though."

Was this really happening? He grabbed his thermos and made a quick walk outside. There was a strikingly familiar kid with her lusus waiting by the side entrance. "Hey!" Alifax said, jogging over. "This place is under construction," he added meaningfully, eyeing her with a slight amount of mistrust.

...wait. Wait, he did recognize her. She'd been the one giving away free scrap metal. Um, he meant instruments. "...you were at Bloodfest, weren't you?" he asked, offering a hand.

Yeah, well, you could say Alifax had stopped by her booth multiple times. He forced a smile, though, although as with all trolls it was a bit on the threatening side: that came from having sharp teeth, though, right? "I did," he confirmed. "I remember, ah, crafting a lot of...noisemakers." Noisemaker was the appropriate word for what he'd made, although for some reason some of the things he'd made were of supposedly amazing musical quality. Alifax wasn't one to judge.

"It's, ah, dangerous right now - it's still under construction," Alifax said hurriedly. "In a few perigees' time it'll be a FLARP arena, though, which means it'll only be dangerous to people who've consented beforehand," he added, almost as an afterthought but that the sentence was so long. He wasn't that great at, ah, interacting with people, but he should probably get a little more accustomed to PR if he was going to be promoting the FLARP league. Which was probably the only way they'd make this investment back.

Not that it mattered much for, well, Frossa, but Alifax cared. It wasn't like they still had instantaneous communication technology, like his illicit books said. Finding opponents was a lot harder under Regina Marian's regime. "Unfortunately it's currently closed to the public," he said, looking pointedly at the nearest road. Had they walked here? He wasn't sure whether he could see this child's vehicle. "I'm Alifax Bunsem," he said, offering his hand again.