Registration table: Oliver & Dick
Oliver wasn't really one for egg hunts, as he'd never partaken in one and therefore had no experience in winning one. He wasn't even sure if one could win an egg hunt, and if you couldn't win, that took even more purpose away from the thing. He figured it was some kind of experiment on social graces, which was slightly terrifying... but seeing as how his brother was going, Oliver didn't want to stay home all by himself. Not with that raccoon still breaking into the kitchen every night. Oliver, in a moment of NyQuil hysteria, had thrown a cup of brushes at the intruder one night. He was now halfway convinced that they were mortal enemies. So yeah, best not to kick around the house when a potentially rabid raccoon may or may not have been out to get him. His imagination was too intense and fatalist to allow it.
So while collecting lame eggs in this lame town with lame strangers wasn't Oliver's idea of time spent productively, it really really beat the alternative. Besides, maybe he'd see that one cute guy that he'd been investing far too much paint and paper in lately.
He was dressed in the one pair of clean, paint speckle-free jeans that he owned and some hideous turquoise fashion flannel, which was at serious odds with the atomic tangerine tee shirt underneath. He wasn't going to get lost in the woods dressed like that, or at least he wouldn't stay that way for long, which was kind of the point. Oliver had been standing by the table for a few minutes now, with his name tag carefully placed over the pocket of his flannel, and he was killing time by arranging all of the remaining name tags in some new order that was definitely not alphabetical, but seemed to have a method, even if it was only obvious to himself.