[ It probably seems counterintuitive to seek out some quiet after waking up in a strange (and undeniably creepy) building. But after a few minutes of anxious strangers, that's exactly what Fitz does, slipping out of the main lobby and into the flickering dark of the screening room.
He takes one look at the screen before looking elsewhere, gaze trailing over the dimly lit table along the curtained windows. He wanders over, inspects the drink dispensers — nothing — then picks up the empty bowl, turning it upside down. More nothing.
The sound of footsteps behind him registers belatedly, abruptly enough for him to startle, swinging around to face whoever's approaching. The bowl's dropped on the table, wobbling around on its rim before clapping to a stop.
It occurs to him that he should do something, or say something, and between the bizarre everything and his nerves, what he ends up going with is: ]
There isn't any food.
[ Nailed it. ]
B | ROOMS (FLOOR ONE)
[ Going to the assigned room feels a little bit like giving up. Fitz gets as far as door 115 before freezing up, and he stands in front of the room for a solid minute, key in one hand and suitcase in the other. When he finally gets up the nerve to unlock it, it gives way easily, already open.
That begs another short hesitation. Then he moves, cautiously stepping into the room and blindly flipping on the lights.
It's completely innocuous. The window earns a curious glance before he places his suitcase on the bed, and the second he opens it his motivation picks up. There's a smaller case inside; he grabs it, opens it, then steps over to the wall between his room and the halls and starts knocking lightly on the wallpaper.
Which is noisy enough, probably, but it's made more so by the fact that he hasn't bothered to close the door. He'd rather keep the exit entirely open. ]
leo fitz | open!!
[ It probably seems counterintuitive to seek out some quiet after waking up in a strange (and undeniably creepy) building. But after a few minutes of anxious strangers, that's exactly what Fitz does, slipping out of the main lobby and into the flickering dark of the screening room.
He takes one look at the screen before looking elsewhere, gaze trailing over the dimly lit table along the curtained windows. He wanders over, inspects the drink dispensers — nothing — then picks up the empty bowl, turning it upside down. More nothing.
The sound of footsteps behind him registers belatedly, abruptly enough for him to startle, swinging around to face whoever's approaching. The bowl's dropped on the table, wobbling around on its rim before clapping to a stop.
It occurs to him that he should do something, or say something, and between the bizarre everything and his nerves, what he ends up going with is: ]
There isn't any food.
[ Nailed it. ]
B | ROOMS (FLOOR ONE)
[ Going to the assigned room feels a little bit like giving up. Fitz gets as far as door 115 before freezing up, and he stands in front of the room for a solid minute, key in one hand and suitcase in the other. When he finally gets up the nerve to unlock it, it gives way easily, already open.
That begs another short hesitation. Then he moves, cautiously stepping into the room and blindly flipping on the lights.
It's completely innocuous. The window earns a curious glance before he places his suitcase on the bed, and the second he opens it his motivation picks up. There's a smaller case inside; he grabs it, opens it, then steps over to the wall between his room and the halls and starts knocking lightly on the wallpaper.
Which is noisy enough, probably, but it's made more so by the fact that he hasn't bothered to close the door. He'd rather keep the exit entirely open. ]