tushanshu_logs | [Midnight Hotel] May catch-all

Entry tags:

[Midnight Hotel] May catch-all

Characters: Anyone, everyone.
Date: Month of May, ‘2016’.
Location: The Midnight Hotel.
Situation: Catch-all post! Feel free to use this post for anything that happens within the Midnight Hotel during the month, using the subject header to label specific rooms or for specific people. See also the OOC note at the bottom.
Warnings/Rating: None thus far.

After the bustle of the last two weeks the Hotel seems oddly empty for a little while, with everything packed up and stored away. That feeling will be exacerbated by some of the Foreigner residents moving out over the course of the month, either to their own housing in Sky Sector or their own apartments elsewhere, and for the first time in quite a while the Hotel may have a few empty rooms.

It will, however, be full of flowers for a good part of May. Though originally provided by Xion in the public areas, Anton seems to be making sure every part of the Hotel, from public to private, has a bit of colour around unless specifically asked otherwise, such as for health reasons.

People may notice a bit of a glitch in the Hotel’s main doors. While ordinarily the exit sector can be chosen using sigils by the door, this month the pearl-white haze around its edges will putter every time someone changes it. Every now and then the glitch might cause someone to emerge in Sky Sector instead of their intended target—though the exit building will be different every time, as if the Hotel hasn’t quite decided yet where to settle its doors. Since it isn’t harmful Anton won’t bar people from using the switches, though he will recommend avoiding doing so; all this means is that the exit defaults into Central.

As a result, late at night when the doors aren’t being heavily used, Anton can be seen reviewing the wards around the entrance and trying to pin down exactly how the Hotel is, apparently, growing a new exit.

This month Anton will also be uncharacteristically emotional—though all this really means is that he alternates between being definably melancholic (prone to staring wistfully at sketches or a specific page in a dictionary) or unusually, and exasperatedly, entertained. The latter can be visibly attributed to the tablet newly propped up on the reception desk, displaying a picture of Anton, Skulduggery and that annoying bloke that was around last fortnight with his arms around their necks, pulling them down to his height. The tablet regularly announces times and tasks put into the tablet’s calendar for Anton’s convenience … and some of which aren’t to his convenience at all.

“Bing bing bing! This is your regular inspirational reminder of a delightfully important word: poop.”

“Boopity boop! Hey Anton, it’s two o’clock! You know what that means? That means it’s time to go be social. I know, it’s tough, be strong! You can do it!”

“Diddly do! Seven o’clock! Time to get laid!”

Though Anton will turn down these particular voiceovers so they at least don’t permeate the whole lobby, he still won't turn them off completely.

[ooc: The Midnight Hotel’s status page is available here, with the rules at the top and ongoing status at the bottom. PLEASE POST TO THE STATUS PAGE IF YOUR CHARACTER WOULD LIKE A ROOM, JOB OR AREA IN THE GARAGE OR ARE MOVING OUT. Anton will manufacture means of payment until Foreigners are able to properly offer recompense or choose to move out.

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He's been here for almost two whole months now, and aside from being mugged several times, encountering Callaghan more often than he'd like (read: ever), and his job in the Metal Sector (which is the one thing in the list he's actually enjoying), Alistair is beginning to realize that he's getting... bored.

Back home that had never been an issue--not for an admitted workaholic with more money at his fingertips than he could feasibly spend in one lifetime. There had always been another project, another goal of some sort. Here in Keeliai he puts in a day's work and then worries constantly until he's back within the confines of the Hotel, glancing over his shoulder toward the rooftops at every step between the two. But once back in the Hotel, what then? He's tried skimming the network but it's been slow lately. Both of the electronic devices he'd brought with him from San Fransokyo are in the hands of new owners (legitimately and otherwise). The juulan he earns are earmarked for more important things.

So tonight he finds himself still awake, cradling his now ubiquitous latte, and roaming the common room of the Hotel, where Anton is apparently... staring at the doors. Rather intently.

Krei wanders over and stops a respectful distance behind the man, stares at the doors for a while himself.

"Something wrong?"

"Unfortunately," said Anton in a tone which might have been absent except that he was Anton, and he was never the usual definition of absent. He tapped the blunt end of a scalpal against his palm. "Something is interfering with the exits onto other sectors. Do you see that haze there?"

He indicated the thin pearlescant gleam around the jamb, mistakable for a heat-mist or something in the eye. "It's an interdimensional melding. I think something may be inserting itself between the physical dimensions brought to a point in the doorway. That, or attempting to rip them apart."

Pressing his lips together into a thin line, Krei squinted at the area indicated for a moment. Give him something technological and he'll discuss it with you all day, Anton. Start talking magic, and...

"I'm going to level with you: I have no idea what you just said," he confessed. "Except that something might be trying to rip part of the Hotel apart. Which, despite my limited magical knowledge, I would take to be a bad thing."

He frowned at the door, then turned his gaze to Anton. "Is it something you can fix?"

Anton smiled. "Not the Hotel; simply its connections to the sectors other than Central. It may not become a problem--it doesn't seem to be affecting the act of exiting. But yes, I should be able to fix it."

He turned toward Krei for the first time. "But I am glad to see you. Larrikin had something to give you before he left, and was unsure he would have the time to finish it. I've done so in his stead. Please."

Anton indicated the desk, turning to move toward it himself.

Larrikin left him something? Krei's eyebrows furrowed. What on Earth would Larrikin have wanted to give him... and how ungodly inappropriate was it?

Well, it couldn't be that inappropriate if Anton had something to do with it.

He turned to follow Anton. "So... he is gone, then?" Alistair hadn't yet had the experience of someone he knew disappearing from Keeliai, but he'd been aware enough of events in the Hotel that he'd noticed the suspicious lack of Larrikin for the last couple of days. And if he sounded a bit hesitant in asking, it was more to do with the knowledge that Larrikin and Anton were old friends than any sort of wistfulness. Whether that translated or not.

"He is," Anton said neutrally. For old times' sake he had let Larrikin sleep with him in his bed, not least because he knew his old friend. Though he didn't know whether Larrikin just didn't sleep if he wasn't sleeping with someone, or whether that line had become so blurred he simply sought out a bed-mate automatically, the fact was that Larrikin, left in a sleeping bag with the rest of the temporary patrons, would have wound up snuggling with someone. At least Anton didn't think anything of shoving him out of the bed.

He had still felt uncharacteristically alone when he woke up a few mornings ago and Larrikin wasn't there.

The present was in a cubicle under the desk for just such an occasion, and in a genuinely unexpected twist, the present was indeed, in fact, appropriate.

It was a doll, almost a puppet, about twelve inches high and made with felt and fabric scraps, and a spitting image of Krei himself, complete with dashing grin and an outfit somewhere between modern suit and handsome nineteenth-century wear. Anton's contribution, which amounted to finishing some of the sewn threads, wasn't discernible as having been done by someone else at all.

Anton held it out. "He made dolls and puppets during the war," he said simply, "for something to do between the battles. He used to give them to the children, or to people who'd lost someone."

There was something Skulduggery needed to know. Whatever it was, he'd forgotten it by the time he found Anton in his office, poring over what looked like the Hotel's ledger and upon closer inspection turned out to be hiding a dictionary.

For a long moment, Skulduggery didn't say anything. Then he cleared his throat and knocked once on the open door. "Your tablet," he said, "seems to be giving you romantic advice."

"My tablet is possessed by a fantastically enthusiastic scoundrel," said Anton without looking up, but then he closed the dictionary and turned to fit it back into its bookcase--within easy reach of the desk's chair. Even though it was 'hidden' behind his body, he didn't doubt that Skulduggery had seen what it was. "Is there something you need, Skulduggery?"

Raine had, of course, happened to be passing by around seven o'clock.

The tablet's reminder stopped her in her tracks. She blinked, backtracked the little ways to the reception desk, glancing first at the tablet then at Anton, with a half-bemused smile. "He really wasn't joking, was he," she said aloud. It had been a little hard to tell, how much of Rover Larrikin was serious under the good-natured, cheerful ridiculousness.

In a moment Raine recalled social niceties. "Good evening, Anton."

"Contrary to how he presents himself," said Anton dryly where he was dusting the shelving behind the desk, "Rover very rarely jokes about most things. He's simply optimistic and declines to take rejection or disagreement personally."

It was quite amazing, in fact, how many people assumed that cheerfulness and lack of offence equalled unserious, and how long it took them to realise that, in Rover's case, they were especially exclusive. Anton turned around, giving a nod to Raine. "Good evening, Raine. How is Solomon?"

The name was unfamiliar, coming from Anton about Wreath, but it seemed the most courteous option when talking to Wreath's lady.

"I didn't know what to make of him, at first," Raine said, thoughtful. It was something like agreement. She was, however, definitely of the opinion it was a shame he had disappeared so soon; not only was he a good person in his own right, but there was something to be said for the effect he had on Anton, as well.

The question wasn't quite something she'd expected, given that the last serious discussion on the topic with Anton had involved being warned about the tendencies of necromancers. Raine tipped her head a little to the side, took a few seconds to generate an honest if inspecific answer. "Better. As well as can be expected, I suppose. How have you been?"

"Few people do," Anton said simply. Most didn't bother to wait out the enthusiasm and the invasiveness to find out what was there. For a man who needed to feel wanted, Larrikin was very good at driving people away--not without cause, perhaps.

The question made Anton turned back to the bookshelves. "As normal." Something of a lie, though not completely. Anton had never stopped missing Larrikin, but until now the grief had hidden itself over the years. "Is there something with which I can help you?"

Edited (wording) 2015-05-06 08:20 (UTC)

The fact Anton turned around meant he'd miss her eyes narrowing slightly. That was an evasion, and coupled with his body language, Raine suddenly doubted very much that 'as normal' was accurate. She rested her elbows on the desk, leaned forward a bit, watching Anton a little more sharply now.

"I'd prefer a slightly more honest answer," she said, bluntly, "but I recognize that without Ryder as impetus, I've been lax in keeping up my end of our friendship. My apologies. Anton, when was the last time you let a doctor look at you without grievous injury involved? For that matter, when was the last time you took an actual break?"

The sternness, coupled with apology, leading to a question after his health made Anton turn in subtle surprise and lift an eyebrow at Raine. "Very well," he said. "As normal taking into account the arousal of some unhelpful emotions regarding my best friend's death; never; during the winter two months ago, when we lit the bonfires."

If Raine ever told anyone he had called Rover Larrikin his best friend out loud he would deny it, but saying so still made him feel a little better. It wasn't that he'd ever denied the emotions to himself, but it relieved some of the unnoticed pressure in his chest nevertheless.

"Unhelpful," Raine repeated, turning that over. An interesting way to describe loss and the associated emotions. Practical, she supposed, which was of a piece with Anton. "I see."

Anton had never spoken of Larrikin, before this. It wasn't exactly a surprise, to learn he was dead. It was, however, a sadness, and Raine could only imagine the gravity of losing such a friend twice over.

She didn't quite soften, but she was a little quieter, when she spoke again. "Why never?" Raine wanted to know. The matter of breaks could be handled later; that was better than she'd been expecting, and she was aware she wasn't the best person to talk.

Given that Raine was a healer, the question she chose to pursue was far more welcome than the alternatives. Few of the Dead Men had been the sort to talk about their emotions, except perhaps at Hopeless's nudging and only with Hopeless himself; but Anton was one of those who did it least.

"There was never any need, or too much expense," Anton answered. "When I was a youth medicine wasn't very advanced, and nearly as bad to buy as any illness that might have taken me. Even after I knew some magical healers, there was never any point. I needed the money elsewhere, and rarely become ill or injured besides."

The latter was primarily because of some combination of the gist and conditioning, but the former ... Anton assumed that was because of the gist too. He couldn't remember the last time he became ill. "May I ask why the sudden interest in my health?"

Edited (adding stuff) 2015-05-06 09:37 (UTC)

Anton's rationale made sense for the past, at least, though perhaps not the present and the future. Raine hummed in thought for just a moment, looking for an accurate answer which did not go into any kind of detail whatsoever about her conversation with Larrikin. "Rover was talkative," she said at length. "And, perhaps, worried. Money is unlikely to be an issue at this point."

"He usually is," said Anton, regarding her with a furrow in his brow. "Talkative, that is; though less so, worried, and you have seen in what manner his concern registers." He nodded at the tablet and then paused to regard it. There was something in particular which Anton had experienced throughout his lifetime, not quite an illness but certainly a condition, and which Larrikin had always been intent on 'fixing'. "... Ah. Would this, perhaps, be related to certain intimate capabilities?"

"It's possible a poor choice of phrasing regarding Ryder temporarily convinced him that I'd borne your child," Raine said with a resigned sigh. "Perhaps obviously, I've had reason lately to do more research into the nervous system, and the results of damage to it. My resources are somewhat limited, but--" A pause, thinking again. "I've caught your hands shaking, before. I initially attributed it to exhaustion, but it's not impossible there's something else underlying."

"That must have gone well." By 'well', Anton assumed 'explosively'. Larrikin did love children. He wasn't always appropriate and wasn't always aware of how he came across to children who didn't need as much affection as he did, but he loved them. The idea of Anton having one must have sent him haywire.

The second part made Anton pause. "I hadn't realised you were watching me so closely." The observation wasn't inaccurate, but Anton had grown used to either people not feeling the need to say so, like the Dead Men, or no one simply noticing. "Yes, the gist has that effect when I'm particularly active or emotional. It always has."

The idea that there might be something else responsible ... well, the thought had never occurred to Anton before. The gist was what had made him Shudder.

It shouldn't have surprised Skulduggery that Larrikin would take to technology like a fish to water. He'd wondered a few times what Larrikin and Hopeless would think of the modern era, and concluded exactly that; but it was different seeing it in person. Or hearing it in person, rather. Larrikin had been obsessed with making sure that when he disappeared, he left something for them to remember him by.

He shouldn't have had to.

"It's not so much what I need," said Skulduggery. It was a half-lie, and he knew it, and Anton probably would too. "You've been distracted. I'm going to help distract you further. How did he react when you showed him the dictionary?"

"He cried," said Anton, turning around. "And then hugged it, and then demanded a hug from Lady Valdis." He raised an eyebrow. "You consider talking about Larrikin to be a suitable distraction from thinking about Larrikin? The way your mind works, Skulduggery, occasionally baffles even me."

It wasn't often that Alistair found himself speechless--not only speechless, but honestly floored. He reached out with his free hand to take the doll, staring down at it for a long moment with a look somewhere between utter confusion and chagrin.

Thoughtful gifts are not a thing that one typically receives when one is the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. Gifts in general become rather sparse, because what do you buy for the guy that has it all, but thoughtful gifts? Certainly not the ties, or the cufflinks, or the fountain pens. Not even the little tech gadgets and doodads that littered his office back in San Fransokyo, courtesy of his employees (although those at least were appreciated).

And to get this from a man he'd known for all of a handful of days? Who'd obviously put at least a modicum of genuine effort into making it by hand? Krei smiled down at the doll, found himself wishing he'd spent more time with Larrikin while he'd still been around. Not that he could have known the man would up and vanish, but...

"Thank you," he said, finally snapping out of it enough to address Anton again. "I can't imagine what I did to warrant something like this, but thank you."

Suddenly self-conscious, Alistair took a sip of his latte in a late, lackluster attempt to cover his surprise. That done, there was a slight hesitation before he spoke again. "This might be a bit too forward, and if it is I apologize, but are you okay?"

"I don't think I've ever been literally swept off my feet before." Rueful, but Raine was smiling a little nevertheless.

It faded a little in the consideration of the other matter. "Habit," Raine said. "Too many of my friends hide what's wrong, especially when they believe nothing can be done. The intent is not to worry those they care about; the results tend to catastrophic. If Colette hadn't..." She shook her head. Not strictly relevant. "Never mind. Either symptom by itself might be set aside, but taken together I'd be inclined to at least consider the possibility of a cause besides your magic. How many other gist-users have you known?"

"You accepted him," said Anton simply. "You didn't dismiss him, didn't disdain him, didn't reject him even in the midst of confusion at his behaviour." Not that Anton had witnessed them interacting all that much, but he knew Larrikin, and he knew what sorts of things received Larrikin's gratitude. "You treated him like a person worthy of being around on his own merit. That's all Larrikin ever truly wanted."

Anton had already picked up the scalpel and turned to move around the desk when Krei asked his question, and paused. "I'm fine," he said evenly, and it wasn't untrue, but it wasn't completely accurate either. "I reconciled Larrikin's death a long time ago."

Reconciled. Never completely overcame. Never tried, either, and didn't want to.

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[Midnight Hotel] May catch-all

Early May

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Early May, before the 5th | Anton's Office

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