Ever ready to help a good cause—and especially supportive of the city's orphanages—Ebon jotted down his name and placed his donation within the pumpkin's eerily cheerful maw.

Then he headed over to pick up his order of jambalaya.

Mach was hungry. Strike that, he was veritably starving! Wandering tiredly down the road, blue eyes blue scanned about for somewhere, anywhere to eat. The schmooze had been spending more and more time than he'd likely ever care to admit in the U.T.R.A. hunters satellite office as of late doing a task he absolutely hated - desk research. It was a brain draining exercise, almost Sisyphean really but he needed to build a case if he was to get the resources he needed to put all that behind him.

Catching sight of some place with the word 'Grill' in it's name he instantly headed for it, pushing in only to be greeted by a rather strange sight: a large, carved pumpkin staring at him with a paper pad and bulletin setup beside. A slight frown crossed the man as he half considered paying it no mind until the pumpkin shifted as he passed, almost like it were smiling at him. Okay, that was creepy. Pausing a tick, an internal struggle between his mind and stomach stretched for a few moments before finally curiosity won over, a sigh escaping him as he stepped up to read over the details of exactly what the hell this was all about.

After a minute or two of consideration the man would finally tare off one of the entry forms and write out a donation and entry:

Eli "Mach" Turner

Wrapping his donation in the entry slip the hunter jerked as the pumpkin opened it's orange maw to him, an endlessly black pit waiting patiently for his donation. Oh yeah, most certainly creepy. Dropping the slip within, he watched warily as the creation seemed to return to smiling at him as if to say 'thank you for the donation!'

Wow....that was just, yeah. Weird....it felt good after so much desk time but at the same time it was still, as always, a little unsettling. Looking to the bar the man could almost feel himself salivating though there was, of course, one last bit of curiosity to tend to. A finger was advanced to the pumpkin and slipped into that smiling maw, wiggling a little in that vast nothingness within. And after a few moments he yanked his finger out as if he'd just been caught taking a peek in the cookie jar. Poke in, pull out, poke in, pull out. He repeated this asinine motion a few more times before suddenly the pumpkin snapped it's mouth shut nearly catching his finger in the process!

"Yee...!" He hopped back, finger recoiling as he gave the pumpkin a sour look. "Cheeky bastard, ain'tcha....think I'm going to have some pumpkin pie just for that! See how you like them apples....erm, pumpkin....pies." A 'hmph' before he sulked away from the entry pumpkin with sweet, pie-y murder now on his mind.

Three steps forward, two back.

Two steps forward, one back.

One step forward.

That is how you figured out if that pumpkin was actually smiling wider the nearer you found yourself. She tested this a few other times before smirking at her own suspicions. It wasn't the smell of food, either, that brought her towards the restaurant; she swore an oath by signing her name, penning that one line of a moniker, wrapping it around some wrinkled bills, sinking it into the mouth of the carved pumpkin

Peaches

After depositing that slip, she winked at the grinning fool of a pumpkin before heading into the thick of the establishment. Lets see how good their martinis were.

A messenger came by before the entries were collected, looking flustered and a little bit frightened, but she followed the instructions to the letter. A small pouch for the donation to the pumpkin and one blue wax sealed entry left with the other pieces of paper. Within, a name:

Shae

Ey dashes in at the very last minute, throws five silver into the pumpkin and scrawls her name before dashing away. Indecision. It's a terrible thing.