checkingout | master of the house, quick to catch your eye (OPEN)

Entry tags:

master of the house, quick to catch your eye (OPEN)

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: April 5rd
What: Welcome, newbies + happy Easter eggs.

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 an empty, ashy fireplace, to your right is a lobby desk. straight ahead are three large sets of doors, all three of them thrown wide open and welcoming. 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. there is, however, a pad of paper and a pen neatly aligned with the desk edge. you know. for notes.

terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

SCREENING ROOM.

on a long pull-down screen, a silent version of the cabinet of dr. caligari 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 caramel corn and a large hot drink dispenser full of hot water, with a few cups and some old looking packages of hot chocolate mix.

BALLROOM.

the third set of grand doors have been thrown wide to reveal a brightly lit, festively decorated ball room. all across the polished wood floor, all over the tables and chairs around the edge of the room, under the curtains, in the corners, hiding in the shadows, and behind the doors, characters will find:

easter eggs.

plastic easter eggs filled with jellybeans and chocolates, real eggs dip dyed and rolled in glitter; foil wrapped chocolate eggs, sugar eggs with little diaramas in the middle. there will be novelty plastic easter bunny rings sprinkles about, and general little plastic childrens toys. there will be plastic and paper easter basket grass sprinkled all over, and upbeat ambiance music intended to excite.

by the front door will be basket for people to use in their quest to collect the hundreds of eggs scattered all over the room. a sign on the floor invites them to "take one" in curvy handwritted script.

but there's no sign to warn that — some of these eggs?

are going to explode in your face.

( event details. )

OTHER.

the ballroom is currently open, 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, food is currently being served. a lot of it is candy.

ROOMS.

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

EGGSISTING GUESTS.

happy easter, kids.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"As do I, Doctor, as do I."

Harry's used to being the one in the room who knows more than any other - about the situation, about the people, about what's been happening and what's going to happen. He's used to having the tools to see himself out of even the tightest spots. The ignorance that's been inflicted on him - on all of them - is disconcerting.

He exhales slowly and gestures at his face.

"Would you mind...? I've been looked over by a friend, but it'd be a pain if we'd missed one."

The question gets a small smile as she steps forward. "Of course."

She's glad he's asked. The doctor and mother in her have been wanting to examine his face properly from the beginning. But she also hadn't wanted to push. She prefers her patients, and her friends, find her presence reassuring rather than overbearing. She's not above insistence where it's warranted, but in this case, she hadn't felt it was necessary.

"I'd say you were lucky. It could have been far worse." Warm fingers frame the side of his face while she gently examines the damage from the shrapnel. "Your friend did a fine job. A lot of experience in this sort of thing?"

It may be subtle fishing. It may also be idle curiosity and a desire to keep the conversation moving while she works.

"I'm afraid it's going to hurt for a while though." And once she's done with his face and neck, she'll gently reach for his hand to have a look at his scorched fingertips. No sense in being less than thorough.

"Keen first-aider with a bit of a mother hen instinct," Harry says, an assessment he's sure would delight Merlin; he keeps his wrist slack and lets her look at his fingers without complaint. His hands are clean and well-kept, nails short and evidencing a history of professional manicuring, skin free of telltale calluses.

"As for the pain, well. Would it come off as self-pity to say I'm growing used to it? At least my previous scrapes have had the time to heal."

Some silver lining.

"I assume this isn't the same young man I spoke with on the network?" She could be wrong; it happens occasionally. But he hadn't struck her as the type. And to the best of her recollection, he hasn't mentioned anyone else.

His hands look better than hers, if you discount the damage from the earlier explosion, and somehow it's what she expects, even as much as instinct tells her there's more to Harry Hart than meets the eye. He's too much at ease while dealing with the hotel's games, his reactions too like her own. Of course, he is English, but that goes only so far.

He does fascinate her.

"Small graces." She looks sympathetic though. She knows from experience how it must feel. "You are proving to be one of my better patients."

"It helps that you're proving to be an excellent physician," Harry says serenely. "And no, not Eggsy. Unfortunately, I've acquired another colleague during this month's intake."

Unfortunate for Merlin. Harry's own response to his friend's arrival is a combination of boundless relief and almost excessive guilt over being so relieved.

"I've had a lot of practice." Fortunate for the hotel's other guests, perhaps, but rather unfortunate from her perspective. Because it means she's seen a lot of pain, death...more than any one person should.

That sympathy takes an entirely different note as she finally releases his hand, her smile one of understanding. "Someone really doesn't like you."

Not that it wouldn't be nice to see someone from home, but no one deserves to be locked in here with them.

"Or someone really does. If only their generosity was a little easier to tell from their resentment," Harry says mildly. "For all I know, I ought to be taking a light explosive as a compliment."

"Ah, yes, I'm certain they blow up all their friends." And there's another brief touch at his elbow. "Though I suppose if they'd been trying to kill you, they would have done a more effective job."

Perhaps they like him, after all.

"Either way, hell of a welcome." First, the hauntings. Now this. And for a man who'd thought he was already dead. She thinks he's rather suffered enough.

Precisely so: if they'd been trying to kill him, they simply would have waited a few milliseconds. As it is, he feels like he's been pulled from the fire only to be pushed into the frying pan, but - better to be here. Better to be here, certainly, than for Eggsy to have had to weather the previous month alone.

(Though he hasn't the first idea whether his presence was a boon or a burden, at times. Given that he was Eggsy's visitor and his ghost.)

"I regret to say I've had worse. Though that was all rather a long time ago."

How long ago, she wonders. Months? Years? One's concept of time tends to change when you've been alive for over a century. It becomes more difficult to judge from a human perspective.

"Violent past?" There's just enough lightness in her tone to make the question seem innocuous, but this time it isn't even a subtle attempt at learning more about him.

This particular aspect of his cover, he's been fairly free with, if it becomes relevant to a given conversation.

"I'm afraid so - Royal Marines. Not a time in my life I remember especially fondly, but one does learn to thrive in adversity."

The soft hum he gets in response to that is most definitely an agreement.

"No, I imagine not. And war isn't something one forgets."

There's no question she's speaking from experience. She's never been an active member of military, for any government, but she's seen combat, been in the middle of it.

Harry would estimate that Kingsman has been, at least peripherally, involved in every major international engagement since its intelligence arm was founded in 1919. The agents might not see war on the frontlines as soldiers would, but they do see it; each and every one of them, sooner or later. The damage it does, the lives ended or ruined, entire societies mutilated.

"Quite right," he says, sombrely. "Places our own troubles into perspective somewhat, doesn't it."

The Sanctuary has been similarly involved, which usually means she's been personally involved. She wouldn't send someone else into the heart of battle if she weren't willing to go herself. And honestly, they've often played such a significant role, she wouldn't have trusted anyone else to handle it.

"It makes them seem very small."

Most of them, at least. The Sanctuary has been at war itself once or twice. The war with the Cabal had cost her daughter's life, and so many others.

There's something dark in her expression, only for a moment, and then the mask slips back in place. "I apologize. I shouldn't have asked." It isn't fair of her to dredge up painful memories to satisfy her own curiosity.

Harry shakes his head, very slightly, to minimise the strain on his shrapnel-marked neck.

"Nonsense, Dr. Magnus. One should never apologise for asking a question; the decision to answer was mine. As I say, it was a long time ago." He half-smiles in respect of present company. "By my own standards, at least."

"Time rarely does as much as they claim." Trust her to understand that better than most. Enough years, decades, could soften the blow, but never as much as you'd hope.

"It doesn't get easier, Mr. Hart."

He knows. And he could easily extrapolate that knowing from decades into centuries.

"After our third consultation I really must insist you call me Harry."

"Force of habit, I'm afraid. But really, Mr. Hart," she pauses with a smile that's only slightly apologetic, correcting herself, "Harry, if you're going to insist, then I'll have to ask you call me Helen."

She'll try to dispense with the polite formality.

He returns very much that same smile.

"Fair's fair, isn't it? Helen."

A month seems like a perfectly respectable time frame for him to be officially moving on to first name terms.

"Much better."

She gives a slight nod toward the eggs still littering the floor. "I should let you get back to it." And make certain no one else needs her attention. She hasn't heard an explosion in a while, but she'd like to be sure no one's injuries have escaped attention.

Before she goes, she'll rest a light hand on his shoulder with a soft, "Do try to take care of yourself." And with that, she's gone, moving back through the room, careful to avoid stepping on any eggs.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

master of the house, quick to catch your eye (OPEN)

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