a gent of good intent who's content to be ( OPEN )

[checkingin]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: March 3rd
What: Welcome, newbies.

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 a warmly crackling fireplace, to your right is a lobby desk. straight ahead are three large sets of doors, though only one of them is open to the public. 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.

terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

SCREENING ROOM.

on a long pull-down screen, a silent version of the phantom carriage 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 popcorn and a large hot drink dispenser full of hot water, but without any tea or hot chocolate packets around.

OTHER.

the ballroom is currently closed, and the grand doors locked.

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

the doors to the courtyard and breakfast hall are unlocked, but looks like you've missed the morning meal. sucks for you.

ROOMS.

you've a room key with your assigned room number on it. all the new guest residences will be located on floors three and four. 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.

it's late when the newcomers arrive, there's a good chance you'd been about to go to sleep (or just waking up, who knows, your mom's not here to tell you when to go to bed or get up). but if you're paying attention, you might hear the hustle and bustle in the lobby below; or maybe you're just drawn there because your gut told you to go join the commotion. whatever the case may be, go mingle!

Comments

[cytotoxic]

a | hallways or lobby, interrupt wherever!

[ Cage is slow to waking, dragging his fingertips over the rough, dirty texture of the carpet as he pushes himself off the floor. He doesn't think for a second that he's been captured. Not by the grounders, or the people from the Ark — if they'd gotten to him, he would be dead. He also hopes he would've seen them coming, all things considered.

He takes his time leaving that dark hall, too, eyes narrowing against the bright light as he nearly trips over the suitcase. After a brief pause to unclasp the hinges and take a look inside, he picks it up and follows the arrows, stepping down the last flight of stairs and into the lobby a few minutes later.

It's bizarrely familiar. No light from the windows, a persistent sense of claustrophobia. Cage wanders up to the desk and eyes the bell for a second before glancing to the next person who passes, expression somewhere between bemused and annoyed. ]

Is this supposed to be a joke?

b | courtyard

[ It's been a long time since Cage has seen a door that wasn't six inches thick and made of steel, lined with locks. The sound of rain falling against the walls of the building is alien, too, and it doesn't even cross his mind to leave the suitcase safely indoors as he steps out into the dimly lit courtyard.

He glances up, apparently unbothered by the rain on his face — and after a second, he actually smiles, a little rusty and unpracticed. When he hears someone approaching, he's quick to turn his attention towards them, one hand lifting to sweep back damp hair. ]

Nice weather we're having.

[ Wry, a little flat, same as his expression now that he's wiped that smile off his face. ]

a.

[wickedlyable]

((She already really doesn't like being talked to. After all, the only reason she's down here is because of that gut instinct she felt telling her to come to the lobby - she's lived through too much to not listen to her gut. But what this appears to be is just more people arriving from different places, hardly something she needs to be worried about. It irritates her to be pulled out of bed for something so trivial.

And then this guy says something weird, and she can't just ignore it.)) What the hell is your sense of humor? What's funny about being brought to some weird hotel?

[cytotoxic]

The fact that it's impossible for me to be in some weird hotel.

[ That's the joke. Cage thinks, belatedly, that he should probably be more panicked about his people, the state he left things in — but he has to actually believe any of this is real, first, so maybe that'll come later.

Instead he gives her a considering once-over. ]

Did you do this?

[ There's no accusation in it. A little impatience, maybe, but that's for the situation at large; he mostly sounds curious. ]

[wickedlyable]

And yet, here you are. ((Her lips lift in a sneer as she looks him over. He oozes Capitol - of course, he could be from anywhere in the multiple universes that apparently exist, but if he was from hers, he'd be Capitol for sure.))

Yeah, I did this. Definitely. Random beat-up girl in a hospital gown knows enough to steal people to this hotel from other dimensions. That makes sense.

[cytotoxic]

[ Clarke had started out as a random, beat-up girl in a hospital gown, too. The accidentally pointed remark earns a bitter smile, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought — or suspicion — but he lets it go.

Besides, the comment about dimensions kind of takes priority. ]

It makes a hell of a lot more sense than being in another dimension. Look— [ Cage pauses, rethinking whatever vaguely patronizing label he was about to follow that up with. ] Someone here has to know something. Do we even know what state we're in?

[wickedlyable]

((She raises her hands in the universal gesture of surrender, giving him a shrug.)) I'm not the expert on this place. I've been here a month. All I know is that wherever you're from, I doubt we're there. And there's no way to figure out where we really are, because there's no way to get out.

[cytotoxic]

[ Cage gives the room at large a considering once-over as he replies, his previous bemusement edged with irritation — barely there, maybe even a little good-humored. ]

There's always a way out, sweetheart.

[ So much for rethinking the patronizing part. But if he can get his people out of an underground bunker, there's no way a hotel's going to be a challenge. ]

Where are you from?

[wickedlyable]

((She's been dealing with patronizing ever since she was first a tribute. The pet name doesn't even make her flinch as it once did.)) District 7. Panem. Have you heard of it?

[cytotoxic]

[ He gives it some serious thought, but of course there's nothing. ]

Never. Is it in— [ A pause, because if the dimension thing isn't a joke, then these next questions might be completely irrelevant. Oh well, worth trying. ] North America? Europe? [ And another beat, tone wry when he continues: ] Earth?

[wickedlyable]

It used to be North America, I think. But that was a long time ago, and I wasn’t really one to pay attention in history class.

((The stare she gives him is level, eyebrows raised, sarcasm at the ready on her lips.)) But, you know, we’re probably from the same world. Just haven’t ever bumped into each other. That makes sense.

[lesson]

Don't see anyone laughing, mate.

[ And he sees a surprisingly lot of people just milling about, looking concerned or upset, but not freaking out. Some are being downright incautious, and Eggsy had spent the last fifteen minutes making idle circles around the lobby, trying to figure out who was new here and who had been here for some time. He wasn't above asking for help, but hadn't been able to draw a discernable line between people he suspected of being involved with this plot, and people who might need his help. So.

Circles.

And stopping short in one of those circles to talk to a particularly pale lookin' yank with a questionable sense of humor. ]

But hey, if you find a kick in the teeth funny, I could see why you'd get a kick outta this.

[cytotoxic]

[ The accent is... strange. Cage is distracted by it for a moment, giving the kid a studying look before he answers. ]

I could think of worse places to be.

[ Like trapped in a mountain, waiting to watch his people get slaughtered. But that thought's skirting too close to reality, and whatever the hell this is, it isn't real. It's a bizarre detour, but he'll take the brief reprieve until he wakes the hell up.

There's a wry note to his voice that betrays that bone-deep skepticism, but he sounds otherwise civil. ]

Where are you from?

[lesson]

[ Worse places to be? Alright, Sir Stockholm, watch the ridiculousness you spout before someone tries to have you committed. Eggsy sideyes him like he has something to say to the effect of you're bonkers, but bites his tongue. At first because it's the polite thing to do, and then because he's a little too concerned with going on the long practiced defensive.

Because he immediately assumes that the where are you from? is some American snobbery against his accent. He's pretty aggressively chav in the tongue, and while Harry'd insisted being a gentleman had nothing to do with how one spoke, it certainly made it's first and lasting impressions. Eggsy puffs up a little; juts his chin forward, and with a rather embelished, lower English drawl: ]

North London, bruv. [ And with a sassy arch of the eyebrows: ] You?

[cytotoxic]

[ North London. The smug sarcasm that'd been coloring his features fades, brow knitting together in bemusement. There's no attempt to be subtle about it; it's not quite like he's seeing a ghost, but it's obvious he's somewhere between disbelief and interest. ]

England.

[ ... isn't an answer to the question. That's just a thoughtful confirmation as he mulls the information over, what it'd take for someone to cross the ocean, these days. It's followed by a short pause, then he finally rallies his focus enough to answer. ]

North America.

[ True, if vague. He has no idea who these people are or what they want — sharing information on a bunker isn't exactly a top priority. ] And how do you think we got here, mate?

[ Which is super patronizing, but hey, at least he isn't trying to do the accent. ]

[lesson]

[ ok but listen here u posh little shit with your evil coiffer and your dusty moth eaten suit —

people don't like being condescended to. and it's a sure fire way to constipate a conversation with someone who spent the last nine months living in a room with assholes named charlie and digby that were basically off-brand draco malfoy tools.

and mocking the accent? not nice.

but eggsy's an old hat at this now, and instead of contorting his features into outright scowls, he just pushes his jaw out and tongues his cheek, giving his new american friend a slow, disinterested scan from head to foot. then he shrugs. ) Not a fucking clue. Mate. Sorry.

laughs

[cytotoxic]

[ yeah whatever he grew up in a hole and he has more culture than u child. And it might not be outright scowling, but Cage is pretty well versed in the art of passive aggressive bullshit. He eyes the kid for a moment, offering a small, amused smirk. ]

Of course not. I should've asked someone else.

[ As if it'd been completely stupid to think this kid could've been helpful in the first place. He says it like it's a polite observation instead of a petty dig, eyebrows lifting in mock apology. ]

Sorry for wasting your time.

cries

[lesson]

Sorry I let ya.

( and because he's already thrown a punch or two more than he probably should have — that was a bumpy landing in those rooms, not made any easier by the bumping into of equally bumped persons — eggsy bows out.

literally bows, holds out his arms a little and sidles backwards casually. )

Peace, bruv. ( and just a little something extra, just to have himself the last say, eggsy goes the extra mile and throws cage a v sign. the sort that definately doesn't mean peace. )

a

[roughup]

[He's still got his suitcase in hand as he paces the lobby, waiting for anyone to show up at the desk. No one. Not yet at least. He's coming to set said case on the desk and force himself to stop pacing the room before he wears a line in the rug when someone seems to be talking at him.

He actually has to shake his head a bit, because a joke? Ha. He wishes.]

In my experience? Unlikely.

[cytotoxic]

[ Cage shoots the guy a considering look, notes the details that stand out — to him, anyway. Probably not to anyone else here. The clean clothes are new, a match for most everyone else he's seen so far in the lobby, a clear contrast to the way his own are worn around the edges. ]

You have a lot of experience with abductions?

[ A joke, if more bitter than lighthearted. A few beats later, equally wry: ]

Some girl told me it's another dimension.

[roughup]

You'd be surprised. [He realizes that could sound bad.] I'm usually finding people, not abducting them.

[The other guy's look hasn't escaped him either, but everyone seems to be different. A mishmash of stuff that makes all of this make less sense.]

... a what?

[cytotoxic]

[ He's already turned his attention to the front desk again, and at the question he pauses just before trying the bell. ]

Dimension. Haven't you ever read science fiction?

[ Read it, lived it, either or. But dimensions are still fiction to him, so his voice carries the expected undertone of sarcasm. ]

[roughup]

I get it, just sounds ridiculous.

[Sure the no door out thing is really weird, and there are a few other things that rub him the wrong way, besides being kidnapped, but as far as he was concerned nothing pointed towards weird magical or science fiction stuff.]

We were all kidnapped, it's not as uncommon as people would think, but it doesn't make it any less terrible, or uncomfortable to experience. [Uncomfortable is a soft word for this.]

[cytotoxic]

[ Cage's eyebrows raise in the equivalent of a shrug, because yeah, it does sound ridiculous. He hasn't really bought into it, himself.

He abandons his absent search for the hotel help in order lean one elbow against the desk, giving Ressler a considering look. Finding people instead of abducting them — the implications are pretty obvious, but cops and detectives are kind of extinct, where he's from. ]

So what do you do, exactly?

[roughup]

[Cops and detectives are a rare breed, they die out really quickly it seems. Might have to start thinking about putting them in zoos and getting them to breed to get their numbers up.]

Get kidnapped, or at least I'm gonna have to add that to my resume.

[It's getting ridiculous at this point.]

Security. Kinda, if you don't want to get technical.

[He'll go with that, it seemed the safest best right now. Donald wasn't about to tell everyone here he's an FBI agent, who knows who he's stuck with in this place. Not about to welcome everyone who the FBI or cops have wronged into kicking his ass.]

[cytotoxic]

[ Yeah, you wouldn't want to be in the zoos back home. They aren't very well maintained. ]

Kinda. [ The mention of security is guaranteed to catch his interest, given he was the head of it back home. Before he was president, anyway. ]

What if I do want to get technical?

[ His tone's light, conversational. Curious without trying to pry. ]