(Pre-Show) The Lobby

[Darth Vader]

Jon took a deep breath inward as he emerged from the portal that led back to the core Omniverse and to the Nexus, his long black cloak trailing behind him as he moved. Metallaic doors slammed behind him, sealing the bastard inside this peculiar pocket realm for good. Taking slow, weary steps, Jon took a few moments to adjust and scope out what was around him.

A vast collection of assorted rooms and archways - chrome elevator doors just like the ones he had just stepped out from were scattered all across the wide, spacious hallways. Other portals from other places, Snow assumed. Jon paced further down the corridor, and the hallways split, leading him into a wide dome of space, counters and comfortable-looking chairs - the centrepiece of this grandiose structure and elaborate maze ground.

Sullen hazel orbs quickly flicked around the room. The place was pretty crowded - not overly so, but there was enough people the make Jon feel unnaturally submerged and swarmed. Cameraman and reporters were all set up in the corners of the lobby area, eying the crowds for anyone who looked of apparent interest or had a potential look to be someone interesting. A few of them appeared to be still savouring their lunch breaks, munching way on fine looking bread stuffed with an ample amount of ham, cheese and fine greeneries.

Jon decided that he didn't feel like answering any more questions with a camera pointing at him, and as one of the distant reporters glanced his way, Jon swiftly turned and quickly trailed off, his long black fur-cloak flowing slightly behind him with his strides.

The bastard must have gotten well-enough away from the eyes of the cameramen before he stopped completely in his tracks.

Or something stopped him in his tracks, rather...

Flowing auburn hair burned against the corner of Jon's eyeballs, prompting him to stop and divert his attention. Jon's nose wrinkled slightly as he realised his impulsive mistake. Could be a Tully, alright... but it can't be Robb. Not curly enough.

Jon sighed.

The orange headed man (or what he assumed to be a man, anyway - his back was turned to him) still looked interesting to the bastard, anyways. A long brown cloak hung down from his shoulders, very unlike his own black, fluffy attire. He adorned steel shoulder pads outside of the cloak, visible for the whole world to see. It was smart as a means of protection, but why didn't he wear them under the cloak as opposed to over them? It wasn't much of a good defence when everyone could see it and know where not too strike. Jon couldn't tell if there were any more layers of armour beneath the mans cloak, but uncertainty and the unknown always gave a certain edge to a fighter when he was in the midst of the field.

Stood across from him was some reporter; a sleazy yet well-attired looking man with slicked-back brown hair and a long, bushy moustache. He wore a red velvet suit, his blue tie hidden away by his stainless maroon jacket, all except for the top of it which lumped up beneath his collar. He was holding a microphone right under the auburn-haired man's nose, speaking with him intently.

Jon tugged his cloak further around him, leaning back against the wall behind him. He had naught much else to do but simply stand back and watch the world go by him, though he still kept a close eye on the reporter and the red-head. He was too far away to distinctly catch what exactly they were discussing.

What Jon did see and hear quite clearly, however, was when the ground suddenly cracked and split slightly beneath the mans feet.

Jon blinked, his pupils dilating and his mouth going a tad agape. What kind of black-magic did you have to know to do something like that?

Jon had seen enough strangeness this past day, though, so it didn't strike him all too much - it was still enough to pipe his interests, though.

Jon was starting full-on at the two men now, watching their movements and changed interactions with steady, bold eyes. Jon figured he was a far enough distance to get away with looking them down and not being accused of giving them a dirty once-over. As the auburn-haired moved past the reporter and brought the interview to an end with his own leaving, however, Jon quickly turned his head away. Looking to him from the corner of his eye, he could see he was about to pass him by and take a right down the hallway. Jon called after him quickly.

"What happened back there?" he spoke in a calm yet curios tone, staring down at his feet. He didn't turn his head to him just yet, but he kept his eyes tacked onto the figure from the narrow-slint of his eyeballs edge. From the glimpse he got of him, he saw a middle-aged looking man who was growing out a bit of a scruff upon his chin.

"Hrmm?" the man responded as he heard Snow, turning back around to face him. Jon now inclined his head, so that their eyes met.

"I saw whatever you did. The ground crackled beneath your feet like.. dried clay..." Jon blinked a few times, pausing as he took a moment to gather his words. "How'd you do it?" he concluded finally, lips pouting slightly outward.

The man's facial-expressions twitched faintly, as though he was having a hard time trying to find the words to properly explain it - like a Braavosi man trying to explain to a dwarf the belief of how an imps cock had apparent magical powers and capabilities.

Jon stared patiently at the cloaked man in front of him, waiting for any kind of answer.