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

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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

[ Front Desk / Lobby ]

[After the initial shock of ending up in SUPER CREEPY HOTEL LAND, Coraline has decided she wants answers. So she makes her way to the front desk where, by all rights, there should be people to answer questions. To be fair, her hotel experience is limited, but that's the way it should be, that's what all the books and movies say, there should be someone behind the desk to help.

So she rings the bell and calls out.]

Hello? He-lloooooo?

[When no one is forthcoming, she frowns, crosses her arms, and finally climbs up over the desk to explore behind it. She's always wanted to do this.]

[ OTHER ]

[Coraline is nothing if not curious. So as soon as she's done looking around the front desk and the lobby, she'll be dropping her stuff off in her room on the fourth floor and then looking around every inch she can manage to stick her nose in.]

Harry has been wandering the hotel since he arrived, somewhat dressed down from his ordinarily besuited self in a shirt and cardigan, partly inspecting the environs and partly getting a look at the other...'guests'.

And he's seen some younger people, but the girl rummaging behind the desk can't be older than sixteen.

He clears his throat quietly.

"I'm afraid the hotel doesn't seem to be staffed."

She stands up quickly, looking a little guilty. Rummaging around is one thing, getting caught by a grown-up is another.

"Yeah, it's pretty deserted back here."

She bends down and picks up a retractable pen, clicking it a few times.

"Nice pens, though."

Whoever this guy is, he's not her dad or her teacher or whatever, so he can't make her stop, right? Right.

"Quite. I'd recommend gel, over retractable ballpoint, if you can find one."

He tucks his hands into his pockets.

"First day?"

She looks a little startled at that, looking down at the pen and back at him.

"Why? What's the difference?"

They're just pens. She's ignoring that second question for now, because she's more curious about the pen thing.

"Compatibility with a greater range of writing surfaces, owing to the opacity of the ink. Less likely to bleed through layers of paper and create imprints on subsequent pages. Immune to analysis by thin-layer chromatography," he adds lightly, "though I don't expect that to become relevant here."

In his experience, teenagers prefer to be spoken to like adults. He does her the courtesy.

She does appreciate that he's not treating her like a kid, or at least talking down to her, but that doesn't mean she understands that last part.

"Riiiiight. 'Cause that thin-layer chromawhatsit is a super big deal."

She looks down at the pen in her hand, clicks it a few more times, then sticks it in her pocket, shrugging.

"Whatever, it's a pen. It'll write."

He smiles faintly.

"Admirable pragmatism, Miss...?"

"Coraline Jones." She looks at the man curiously. "Who're you?"

...aroooound

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Front Desk

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other;

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