Pincher knew that a lot of members tended to focus on two groups which were the Grim Rays and the Necro Mambas guilds. He could understand this due to how much the two fields offered with the Rays offering fighting training as well as blacksmith weaponry while the medical focused on spiritual "witchcraft" as well as normal healing. But the Blackjack Rats? They were somewhat the underdogs, being the ones to create events as well as being the spies and silent killers of the group. Surprisingly, Pincher had been a former Blackjack Rat member before his father had forced him to become a Grim Ray member, believing that Pincher needed to learn "discipline" or whatever the fuck that meant. Yet, he had always held a soft spot for the Rats of the Typhoon crew but he supposed that it was the reason why he wanted to get not only nurse tryouts out of the way but also dealer tryouts. Despite the eagerness for Pincher to get the tryouts rolling with a sense of optimistic brightness, the male did not feel exactly well to be doing the work. His fractured skull injury was worsening and he stubbornly refused to see anyone medical especially Lilyspoise after their spat from Jacob's accident with their jungle concoction that was meant for joiners.

With a locked jaw of tension and friction, Pincher was slipping through the small crowds of members socializing, his velvety ears pinned to his skull as he desired to not hear any of them. Their voices were too loud and his oceanic blue eyes were narrowed with hostility, a soft growl rumbling in his throat as the brooding male made sure no one was crossing his path towards the center of the bay area. He glanced around as he stood in front of the old statue of the sea turtle. He felt a sudden pressure in his dark pepper nose, eyes slightly widening when he realized that the crimson liquid that was dripping down his nose was blood. His fictional brows furrowed as the male raised a paw to rub off the blood, grimacing as he felt a stab of pain in his neck. Pincher gave himself a light shake, forcing himself to ignore the worsening condition of the fracture. "Anyone interested in the Dealer position, get your asses over here." He called out flatly, tired misty gaze flickering around before he decided to continue when enough arrived. The task is simple. If you want to apply for it, brainstorm and create an event for the Typhoon and Snowbound or just for the crew. After enough applicants have entered their event, there will be a vote on which event was most interesting to be in. The winner will receive the position and must make sure to remain active...in their role. J-Just cause you win don't m-mean you won't have to do your job after..." His voice had become shaky around some parts, trailing off as his speech had begun to become slurred. He grimaced, biting down on his salmon pink tongue before finishing "Link your event here once you are done." With that, the doberman placed down paper, pens, and a black pot for participants to enter their ideas.