She shows up about five minutes before the end of the previous girl's shift; there are actually three kissing booths, one with a girl, one with a boy, and one with an aggressively androgynous person with neon-green hair. Each booth has a short-ish actual line in front of it, along with a sort of looser queue milling around in the general vicinity of all three of them. 

(Isabella may or may not suspect the touch of the Erogame in the fact that none of the potential patrons look creepy or undergroomed or otherwise objectionable in any outwardly visible particular.)

She was kind of expecting the Erogame would handle that, and she is glad to see that it has! She was not really expecting there to be a line but she can roll with that. She'll wave at the girl she's relieving and listen to the milling-around chatter for the next five minutes before taking her seat in the booth.

A couple of nervous-looking probably-freshmen are admitting to each other that they've never kissed anyone before and this seemed like the least embarrassing way to go about changing that! 

A girl wearing a swishy hippie skirt and a flower crown is earnestly telling a pair of identical boys and one other girl about her second cousin who survived lip cancer but now has no lips. 

A boy with long blond hair and a button-down shirt with a butterfly embroidered on the breast pocket is standing a little ways back from the queue, looking at everyone else critically. Not judgmentally, more like an entomologist examining a tray of beetles to see if one might be an as-yet undiscovered species. 

Lip cancer??

Anyway, yeah, fair, butterfly-pocket boy, this is a pretty weird collection of specimens.

Time to smooch people. She, too, has never kissed anyone before, though she can't exactly talk about that to anyone who ever met Harper, can she!!!

Lip cancer girl goes for the androgynous guy; one of the never-been-kissed specimens comes over to her booth. 

People's lips are soft, generally. Some of them are a little bit chapped; there are a range of firmnesses and sizes. 

This is all information she had from Harper already but it's different, to experience it. 

There isn't a line at all times; the number of interested people ebbs and flows, although generally there are at least a few people lingering at the fringes, giggling to themselves and glancing shyly at the booths. 

"What makes someone decide to do this?" butterfly pocket boy asks during a lull, having gradually wandered closer over the space of several minutes. 

She thinks she likes kisses, though she's not super into them all by themselves, it's sort of like going flower-picking and getting lots of individual petals that are soft and don't look bad or anything but clearly aren't the complete picture. Let alone a live houseplant that will bloom again one day.

"What, to staff the booth or to patronize it?"

"Staff a booth. Kissing one person seems--doable? Kissing a lot of people sounds like talking to a lot of people, which is to say, terrible." 

"I too am an introvert but I'm not exactly making small talk about the weather, here. It seemed like it'd be an interesting experience. And it's for charity, of course."

"There is that. --I'm Kanimir," he adds belatedly. 

"Bella. Lovely to meet you."

"What does wanting to kiss someone feel like? I've asked my sister, but she's an extrovert." 

"Hmm... it's like the grownup version of, when you're a kid in a museum and there's something cool, behind the glass or the velvet ropes, and you can see it fine, but you want to touch it, something is just not enough about looking."

"...Huh." 

Someone comes up to the booth, then, so he doesn't say anything else. 

But he does go to the end of the forming line. 

Cute. He gets an extra generous helping of smooch.

His lips are soft, and tentative in a completely different way from most people who have never kissed anyone--exploratory, experimental, testing, not nervous. 

After they part, he touches his lips, says, "hm," nods respectfully to her, and leaves. 

Cute.

She carries on with the rest of her kissing booth shift.

She is relieved at the end of her shift by a girl in a tube top with tattoos of wings across her shoulderblades. 

"Nice tats!"

What is the actual relay like?

There are lots of groups hocking goods and lots of groups hocking services. This one is a facepainting station; that one is a photography booth, with props; that one has pie tins and cans of whipped cream and offers to let people pie the vendors in the face for five dollars. That one over there is selling baked goods; over there someone is raffling off several prize packages; that table over there is covered in jewelry of various sorts. 

Ooh she's going to buy a brownie and browse jewelry and then get a butterfly on her face.

The jewelry table contains a lot of intricately-welded metal jewelry, most of it with some kind of iridescent anodization over its surface. There are chunky pieces and lacy pieces and pieces that look extremely experimental and pieces that might, technically, be illegal on account of being made of pennies, and a couple of pieces are enameled but only a couple. 

The girl standing behind the table is a tall brunette with her hair in a tight braid, wearing leggings and a turtleneck that clings to her figure from where it begins at the turtleneck collar to where it ends just below her hips. 

Munch munch brownie. She only ogles the girl a little, she meant to browse jewelry. "Do you make these?"

"My sister does! Isn't she talented?"