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

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ If there was any lingering thoughts left in her mind over the possibility of him being Malcolm Merlyn, they're gone as soon as he says that. Because that is the exact opposite of what Malcolm has done. He's trained her to fight and be brave and be strong. And he's manipulated her into doing his bidding, took away her free will and forced her to kill. She's held onto her humanity as tight as she can, refusing to willingly become the killing machine he wanted her to be. Malcolm is selfish and cruel and has only wanted Thea to be just like him

Somewhere deep down in a place she refused to acknowledge, she almost wishes Jack really were her dad instead of Malcolm. Just for a second.

She doesn't say anything, but she tightens her hold at the crook of his elbow, an acknowledgement. Maybe a thank you, but she doesn't know what she's thanking him for.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, shaking away all the thoughts of Malcolm Merlyn. When she looks up at him again, it's with arched brows and the barest hint of a smile. ] I don't think I could take over the hotel on an empty stomach.

[His free hand pats hers gently. The callouses on his are all wrong for a man who would use a bow. Those along his fingers are patches where handling a handgun wears, the places were they would curl to pull a trigger. The arm strength for pulling a bow back is lacking as well.]

Then our next mission is food. I heard they had popcorn in the theater here, but that others had overtaken it. Think we can reclaim some area?

[The smile he gives her is mischievous and full of fun, a lark instead of a test.]

I'll smile and look pretty while you sneak in behind and grab it all. We can outrun them. I'm good at that.

[ She can feel the differences — they're subtle, but they're there. She might not have noticed if she were just comparing them to Malcolm's hands, but she's familiar with the callouses that come with using a bow, seeing as Oliver and Roy have them too, and she's far more familiar with their hands (Roy's especially) than she is with Malcolm's.

Her own hands, long and thin and delicate, support the sort of roughness and nicks and scars that come with swordsmanship. ]

I feel like I should be offended that you're the one smiling and looking pretty, but-- [ Her smile grows and she shrugs. ] There's a reason my brother calls me Speedy.

[A lifetime as a conman has taught Jack to look for all sorts of signs. Becoming immortal hadn't lessened his skills, only sharpened them. Especially when it came to the possible dangers of bedmates.]

Speedy? Is this a kind nickname or the sort you give a sibling that steals your stuff constantly? You're not a teddy bear ransoming type, are you? I would have to be a little disappointed in you if that's the case, Thea. That poor innocent teddy bear.

[A dramatic sigh follows, Jack shaking his head.]

I've ended up being led astray by someone who stole her brother's HotWheels cars. I can feel it. I know about these things.

[ He has her laughing before he's even finished, head tilted down and away as she hides it in her shoulder. Minus his face, he's the polar opposite of Malcolm, and it's sort of comforting. She likes it. ]

I may or may not have been responsible for stealing Ollie's cookies and running away with them when we were little. I could always outrun him and his cookies always looked better than mine.

But innocent teddy bears? [ She places her free hand against her chest like she's deeply offended, mimicking his dramatics. ] I would never.

Running is a valuable skill that's often overlooked these days. Learned that well from a friend of mine.

[Meaning the Doctor. Lots of running involved there.]

[Jack finds himself liking the sound of the laugh as much as he did her smile. What he wouldn't give right now for the ability to run a genetic scan. She's exactly the type of woman he likes.]

Well, it was cookies. Who doesn't love those? A long as no bears were hurt in the process. They have feelings too, you know.

I was taught to survive, so if surviving means running-- [ She gives a shrug. ] Then I run.

[ Which she doesn't necessarily like to do, but she's self-aware enough to know when she's going up against something she can't beat (AKA the time the Arrow busted through her fucking window). So if push comes to shove, she'll book it. ]

It was always Ollie who crossed the line into bear-napping. Sometimes it escalated into full-blown wars. It was serious business.

[The hand that rests over hers in the crook of his elbow tightens fractionally. Quiet displeasure crosses Jack's face before his usual smile overtakes it. Nothing he's heard from Thea's mouth tonight makes him very happy. If this Malcolm is him in a hundred or two hundred years from now, maybe that can be changed. Maybe there's still a chance.]

Full-blown wars? Does this mean nerf gun darts littered the walls or did you escalate to Lego brick traps?

[ His hand tightens on her's, but by the time she glances up at him, he's smiling again, so she's smiling too. ]

Not so much nerf guns as lots of sabotage and booby traps. It drove our parents up the wall. [ She sighs. ] But Oliver was older and bigger and smarter, so he almost always won.

[Jack has always been best at looking like or appearing to be what other people wanted the most instead of what he as.]

I despair for any pets you two may have had. I can see ransom notes being paper airplaned down a hallway or someone's puppy held for an Oreo stash.

[He teases, but he's learning too. Jack knows too well that past shapes present.]

Did you steal his hamster? Admit it, Thea.

[ She laughs a little. ]

We didn't have any pets. [ Which never bothered her before but now she sort of feels like she missed out on yet another typical part of childhood. There's a lot of things normal kids would've gotten to do that she never did thanks to being the daughter of a billionaire. ] I might've, though, if he had one.

That's a shame. I could see you running down a hallway with a warrior's cry, holding above your head his hamster in one of those plastic running balls.

[What can he say? Jack loves to keep a woman laughing instead of crying although he's done enough of both.]

Probably having stolen your mother's makeup to do warpaint.

That hamster would've stood a much better chance of surviving with me, anyway. Ollie is not what I'd call nurturing.

[ She smiles a little. She had definitely been the type of kid to use her mother's makeup as warpaint as opposed to dress up. Up to a certain point, at least. ]

You wouldn't be wrong. There's a pretty big age gap between me and Ollie, though. Any fight I won, he probably let me win.

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

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