checkingout | I USED TO DREAM THAT I WOULD MEET A PRINCE

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I USED TO DREAM THAT I WOULD MEET A PRINCE

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: May 7th
What: Feed me, Seymour

ARRIVAL.

you wake up when you hit the floor in a dark room, and the air is knocked out of your lungs. the carpet is threadbare, worn with use, kind of dusty. and you're not the first person to endure this crash landing. nor will you be the last.

once your vision rights itself, you can see the well-lit hallway through the doorjam straight ahead of you. not to say there’s monsters in the shadows, but something propels you towards that door and out into the bright hallway beyond.

and once outside your room, you can hear it: the steady thrum of rain outside.

MAIN LOBBY.

there's a staircase at the end of the lengthy hallway you tumble out of. grab your suitcase and follow the dull green exit signs on the ceiling until you reach the disappointingly bland stairs that lead you down to the ornate old fashion hotel lobby.

to your left is an richly crackling, rather excessively smoking fireplace, to your right is a lobby desk. straight ahead are three large sets of doors, all three of them thrown wide open and welcoming. and outside the few (curtained, permanently dark) windows is the continually steady hiss of rain. once you leave the hallway you wake up in, you won't be able to return.

welcome to the hotel.

FRONT DESK.

though there is a bell and a plaque designating the desk to be the main desk, the customer service desk, there are currently no staff members behind it. none shall answer your calls, either. there is, however, a pad of paper and a pen neatly aligned with the desk edge. you know. for notes.

terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

SCREENING ROOM.

on a long pull-down screen, a silent version of alice in wonderland will be playing on loop. at the back of the room, between the neat rows of fold out chairs, mounted on a wobbly table is the old-timey projector, and mounted on the walls are some rather old speakers that warble out "terrifying" old music.

along the curtained windows is another long table, with a large bowl of chipotle cheese popcorn corn and a large hot drink dispenser full of hot water, with a few cups and some old looking packages of apple cider mix.

DINING HALL.

is tragically, painfully empty.

OTHER.

the ballroom is currently open, and the grand doors unlocked.

there is no main door leading to the outside, good luck trying to find one.

the doors to the courtyard are unlocked.

ROOMS.

you've a room key with your assigned room number on it. all the new guest residences will be located on floors one and two. while there is an open elevator in the main lobby, and the buttons light up inside, the doors will not close. all in all, you'll be better off taking the stairs.

while they're the same stairs you undoubtedly came down to get to the lobby, the door to the endless hall everyone woke up in will not reappear between the main floor and the subsequent residential halls.

there are twenty rooms per floor. feel free to get to know your surroundings; or your neighbors as they trickle in around you.

EXISTING GUESTS.

are you dreaming of omlettes and regretting complaining about the constant pancakes and weak ass coffee yet?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Natasha smiles a little at that. ] Well. A lot of things don't surprise me. Are you the hacktivist? Or the biochemist?

[ still slowly. still processing. ] Hacktivist ...

[ oh there are her wits, she found them. she rallies her disbelief into one quick, incredulous, ] You knew?

About Coulson? I was Level 7, of course I knew. [ Natasha's grin gets a little bigger, and she starts walking towards Skye, nodding towards the door, an indication they should probably get back inside before they catch pneumonia and die. ] The rest of you... well. May kept me informed, every now and then. I knew he had a team, and he picked up a hacktivist, and had three of our best and brightest. But not much more than that.

[ For a moment, there's brightness in her eyes, the kind rarely found anymore. Black Widow heard about her. Holy crap. Even if not by name, it's— Wow. Just wow. Remind her to thank May later.

This moment is dwarfed, though, by the number. Three. May's words, so not counting her. Not counting Coulson, either, since it's his team. Skye's stomach turns. Her gaze drops. ]

Two.

[ She corrects darkly. ]

Fitzsimmons, May, me, and Coulson. [ She turns to look at the spot in the courtyard where she'd flung him away with her power. The water patters against a flat, undamaged spot of concrete. ]

[ Natasha turns her gaze to follow Skye's, eyes narrowed. She doesn't understand what she's looking at, thought, and she turns back to Skye, stopping just a little ways away. ] Two?

You said May told you that Coulson's team had three of SHIELD's best and brightest. [ She turns to look back at Nat. ] One was never SHIELD.

[ Her face goes hard, and Natasha gestures towards the door again. ] Let's go inside. You can tell me more when we dry off.

There's not much to tell.

[ But she turns and starts inside, close at Natasha's right hand. ]

HYDRA had its coming out party, so did Ward. He was a traitor.

[ Ward, Ward... the name sounds familiar. Natasha vaguely recalls Fury mentioning someone by that name scoring the highest since she took the aptitude test. She nods, face blank, as she leads them both inside and towards the stairs. They're going to her room; Natasha's already done everything she can to make sure that it's not bugged. At least, not as bugged as it can be in a place like this. ] Was? Or is?

If there's a difference, you're gonna have to explain it to me.

[ Said with all the unwavering righteousness of someone who took that burn too personally. ]

[ Natasha looks over at her, unimpressed. ] Was he taken care of or is he still alive?

[ The shock on her face says everything and nothing at once. She looks blindsided by the straightforwardness of it, like it might just choke her, and somehow she wasn't on that page at all.

Was. Past tense, like maybe he isn't anymore. Like maybe all those promises amounted to something. But Natasha isn't talking about any absolution here. There's no coming back from HYDRA; she knew it from the moment she found Koenig's body. What Fitz struggled to accept, Skye readily had.

Yet she's never felt more monstrous than standing in that courtyard.

Her gaze drops; for a moment, she struggles for words. Sounds come from her throat, she blinks hard, trying to collect herself. Finally, she shoves them out, voice thick with emotion that she wishes she could shut off as easily as May. ] He's alive.

[ And the Black Widow, naturally, views that as a failure. Why shouldn't she? Skye tried to put him down in San Juan. Failed when she got Mike to bring him back the first time, on the Bus. Why was she mired in moral conflict over a few cracked ribs now? Because of the trap she'd laid? Because of what that kind of vengeance, not justice, makes of her? ]

He's here.

[ True, he shouldn't be alive. But the emotion in Skye's voice isn't lost on her, and Natasha doesn't turn on Skye like Skye's probably expecting her to do. She hears Skye say he's here, and she'll get to that, that's incredibly important information that she needs to relay to Steve as soon as possible.

But. But. Ward isn't here in front of her right at that moment (and it's thinking of this that Natasha realizes where else she's heard that name, and it's hardly a flattering character trait for him). Skye, on the other hand, is, and there's some kind of tether there. She doesn't slow her pace down. She's soaking wet and her jeans are starting to chafe. Her voice is soft, when she speaks. ] You two were close?

[ She phrases it like a question, but Natasha already knows the answer. Skye's reaction has already spelled it out for her. Natasha's not asking to be cruel, but she needs more details. She needs to know everything Skye can tell her about Ward. ]

[ Silence gives Skye time to put real thought into her answer. For a moment, she thinks of Ireland. Talking about the well, about Thomas and Christian. She thinks about battleship and training sessions and Ward coming into the med pod after Quinn put two in her stomach.

I am not a good man, Skye.

She should have heard him. It might well be the only honest thing he'd ever said. ]

No.

[ She settles on shaking her head. Whoever she knew, that straight-laced SHIELD agent who needed to learn to laugh, who always wanted to play quarterback, who didn't know how to bromance his way through a security guard? That wasn't Grant Ward. That guy didn't exist. ]

I just thought we were.

[ It's a relenting admission—but none of it was real. People don't love like that. ]

[ That tells Natasha more than Skye probably realizes. Natasha's room isn't far, and they arrive quickly during their conversation. She unlocks the door and ushers Skye in first, shutting and locking the door behind her. ]

Has he tried anything since he arrived here?

[ She asks the question as she ducks into the bathroom to grab a pair of towels, one of which she tosses to Skye when she steps out. ]

No.

[ That one comes out reluctant, like she's wobbling on the edge of completing the sentence. Her eyes flick up towards the ceiling, trying to stomp down her lingering sentiments of guilt. She won't let herself feel guilty for not caring about what happened to him; she won't. He sure as hell didn't care what happened to them when he turned to Garrett.

And yet, wrapping the towel around her hair, she does find herself finishing the sentence. ]

Just me.

[ She's tried plenty. The first time she saw him, and ripped his stitches. Out in the courtyard. Even baiting him into threatening her on the network, so people saw what he really was. ]

You attacked him? [ That's—surprising. Natasha bends over and flips her hair down, rubbing the towel through it, in part to hide her expression of contemplation. Skye attacked him, but didn't finish the job. ] With or without provocation?

Both.

[ A simple shrug, like she doesn't want to make a thing of it. ]

I mean, he said he was trying to help, but. [ But she can't believe it. ] Guess we're even.

I guess you are. [ Natasha flips her hair back up and smirks a bit. She keeps the towel around her shoulders. ] You're right not to trust him. You're also right to be upset about the fact you can't trust him.

[ That draws some of her defensiveness out like a sieve, disarming her. She pulls the towel down over her head like a hood, settling it around her shoulders, on top of her damp hair. What she really needs is to get out of her shirt and wring it out, but not mid-conversation.

Not mid-this conversation. ]

It's like sometimes, I look at him, and ... I believe it. All the bullshit he feeds us about making amends, promising not to lie again. But mostly, it just makes me wonder what his end game is. Like he must be trying to get something out of us.

[ Natasha, meanwhile, doesn't seem to mind shedding her clothes during this conversation; she already peeled her jacket off in the bathroom and she's digging through the dresser while Skye answers. She tosses something Skye's way before responding -- a dry grey t-shirt. ] Here.

[ Natasha drops her towel and peels off her wet tank top, pulling on a dry one as she turns around to face the other woman. ] Keep that suspicion, unless you truly believe he's redeemable. HYDRA only has one end game, and they'll do anything to get it. He will use your emotions against you. The only way to win is to make him think he's won, and use that to your advantage.

Did that.

[ She actually sounds a little surprised with herself, that her five-minute haphazardly collected plan through a breakdown in the bathroom of the Providence base had turned out to be exactly what Black Widow would recommend. She pulls her towel off, dropping it into a pile on the floor and stripping off her shirt. She balls up the fabric and throws it down to the pile too, then holds up her hands for Nat to throw her the clean one.

Without her shirt on, she looks worse. Bruising starts at her knuckles, obvious now, and runs clear up her forearms. It tapers off near her elbows, but there's more of it around her ribcage. Mottled purple and yellow. She winces as her arms go above her head. Broken ribs. Micro-fractures in her forearms. It's bad. So is how visible her collar bone is. Someone hasn't been taking care of herself. ]

When it first happened, I was stuck alone with him at Providence. We were ... [ She rolls her eyes. ] He wanted us to be something, so I let him think we were. It kept me alive, delayed their access to our files, and got me to where Coulson and Hill could extract me. [ She shakes her head, tongue pressing out between her lips. ] I don't wanna do that again.

[ Not only because it made her feel sick to play along with it when she knew the truth about him, but because it was too real. Walking the line of feelings that she genuinely had and using them. It feels like it'd be too easy to get in too deep, to fool herself, like Fitz had fooled himself. ]

[ That's pride on the Black Widow's face, Skye. It's hiding Natasha's once over of Skye's bruises, which she files away as possibly from her fight with Ward. But it's genuine, too. She isn't surprised, though. Skye strikes her as resourceful and smart. ] Good. Now he knows not to underestimate you and he'll be less likely to look down on you.

[ Granted, men thinking Natasha is less than she is is how she operates, but she doesn't expect that of everyone. It's difficult to use your own emotions against someone else. Natasha will be the first to admit that. ] So what will you do now?

[ There's a right answer to that question: follow Coulson's lead. It would be the responsible agent behavior here. Coulson is team leader—more than that, he's the Director. Deciding how to handle Ward is his call. But it's not the first time she's gone off-book where he's concerned, and her emotions have a way of taking first chair in this area. So she's not going to pretend that's a trump card. ]

I don't know.

[ She pulls on the clean shirt, pulling her hair out of the collar a moment later. ]

Truce, until he makes a move. We've got enough to contest with in here; we don't need to be fighting each other.

[ It's an acceptable answer, but the last part has her attention. She's already heard a little bit from Coulson and Steve, but it's always nice to get as many perspectives as possible. ] As an agent of SHIELD, what's your take on this place?

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