[ Maybe his arrival could be more eventful. He could have gotten to his feet swinging, could've been fighting the second he hit the floor. But, despite his temper, Minho is slow moving. It's a combination of having just had the klunk beaten out of him, his face bruised, a black eye forming, his lip split, body sore from a beating and his burn scars both, and the fact that he's not stupid. Brash, yes. But not blatantly stupid.
Carefully, and with a small grimace, he gets to his feet. He exits through the door - careful not to trip on the suitcase there - and he heads into the hallway, squinting through the change in light.
This is almost like the base they'd been brought to, dorms tucked away, but it isn't at the same time. Not unless WICKED decided to open a... a hotel, he thinks. Logically, he knows what one is. He's never been to one, not that he knows of, but he can recognize what one is. The tacky, musty carpet, the furnishing, the design of the hallway with all of its doors.
The suitcase at his feet.
Gently rubbing at the tender skin of his throat, where the still scarring burn peeks out of the slightly bloodied collar of his otherwise sterile white shirt, Minho tongues carefully at the split in his lip before he sets off. He brings the suitcase with him, partially because he wants to investigate it, but partially because it wouldn't make a poor bludgeon if someone or something attacked him. If one paid close enough attention, they'd be able to see his bloody grip tighten every now and then on the handle, like he's prepared to swing it.
But he won't unless provoked, which a simple approach while he heads to room 102 won't result in. ]
MAIN LOBBY
[ Eventually, Minho can be found downstairs. Having left the suitcase behind in "his" room, and deciding not to change his clothes - everything hurts far too much, he'd rather not provoke further injury - he figures it's time to do what he does best. Exploration and investigation is all second nature to him at this point, and he has a feeling it would be smart to familiarize himself with as much of the hotel layout as he possibly can.
Which, turns out to be about jack squat. ]
What the hell? [ There's literally no door. There are locked doors - which he bangs on and tries to force open alike - but nothing that can be considered a main entryway. One door, he thinks, leads outside. But that's neither unlocked nor an exit, it seems like.
The screening room draws his attention for all of a minute before Minho goes elsewhere, the front desk drawing his attention first now that he's not poking around his room or suitcase. He rings the bell, once, just for the sake of ringing it. But when no one comes, he starts to look around the work station. Trying to open doors and drawers, shuffling through what he can.
Which isn't a lot, as is made obvious by his muttered slang and complaints. He can't even force the locks. ]
Swear to god, Rat Man, if you're behind this, too... [ That one isn't muttered, as he straightens up with a wince. Well, time to find the others in this rainy, locked coop. ]
SCREENING ROOM
[ Seriously, he takes one look in here and goes "nope." You can try to grab him, though. ]
( AND here is my other dumb boy. Thanks for being patient with me! )
no subject
[ Maybe his arrival could be more eventful. He could have gotten to his feet swinging, could've been fighting the second he hit the floor. But, despite his temper, Minho is slow moving. It's a combination of having just had the klunk beaten out of him, his face bruised, a black eye forming, his lip split, body sore from a beating and his burn scars both, and the fact that he's not stupid. Brash, yes. But not blatantly stupid.
Carefully, and with a small grimace, he gets to his feet. He exits through the door - careful not to trip on the suitcase there - and he heads into the hallway, squinting through the change in light.
This is almost like the base they'd been brought to, dorms tucked away, but it isn't at the same time. Not unless WICKED decided to open a... a hotel, he thinks. Logically, he knows what one is. He's never been to one, not that he knows of, but he can recognize what one is. The tacky, musty carpet, the furnishing, the design of the hallway with all of its doors.
The suitcase at his feet.
Gently rubbing at the tender skin of his throat, where the still scarring burn peeks out of the slightly bloodied collar of his otherwise sterile white shirt, Minho tongues carefully at the split in his lip before he sets off. He brings the suitcase with him, partially because he wants to investigate it, but partially because it wouldn't make a poor bludgeon if someone or something attacked him. If one paid close enough attention, they'd be able to see his bloody grip tighten every now and then on the handle, like he's prepared to swing it.
But he won't unless provoked, which a simple approach while he heads to room 102 won't result in. ]
MAIN LOBBY
[ Eventually, Minho can be found downstairs. Having left the suitcase behind in "his" room, and deciding not to change his clothes - everything hurts far too much, he'd rather not provoke further injury - he figures it's time to do what he does best. Exploration and investigation is all second nature to him at this point, and he has a feeling it would be smart to familiarize himself with as much of the hotel layout as he possibly can.
Which, turns out to be about jack squat. ]
What the hell? [ There's literally no door. There are locked doors - which he bangs on and tries to force open alike - but nothing that can be considered a main entryway. One door, he thinks, leads outside. But that's neither unlocked nor an exit, it seems like.
The screening room draws his attention for all of a minute before Minho goes elsewhere, the front desk drawing his attention first now that he's not poking around his room or suitcase. He rings the bell, once, just for the sake of ringing it. But when no one comes, he starts to look around the work station. Trying to open doors and drawers, shuffling through what he can.
Which isn't a lot, as is made obvious by his muttered slang and complaints. He can't even force the locks. ]
Swear to god, Rat Man, if you're behind this, too... [ That one isn't muttered, as he straightens up with a wince. Well, time to find the others in this rainy, locked coop. ]
SCREENING ROOM
[ Seriously, he takes one look in here and goes "nope." You can try to grab him, though. ]
( AND here is my other dumb boy. Thanks for being patient with me! )