Narrative Who: Geoff Bianchi When: Thursday evening Where: The mean streets of Vegas What: Geoff is pondering what the heck he is going to do about his apartment. Warnings: None.
"Oh man.. What am I going to do?" Geoff muttered to himself as he trudged along. The twenty something dealer had already learned his lesson and invested in a blue tooth... You know.. for the times you had to talk to that voice in your head. And now he was just walking to clear his head, feet running on auto-pilot for the time being.
Did someone have a set back? The mockery was thinly veiled behind a concerned voice. It must have been a doozy if you're asking for help from me.
"Shut up. My place is unlivable for the moment. Some jack ass decided to burn his place down." Geoff grumbled and hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. The situation was rather unfortunate. His place wasn't too bad but the fire department and management had given him the heave-ho for the next few nights. What was he going to do? More importantly where was he going to go.
Ooooh, I think we both know the answer to that question. The voice replied with a tone that one uses on a particularly dense child.
Geoff practically scowled at that. "What? That stupid journal you keep babbling about?" His pace began to slow to a halt and he felt the urge to look up. The sign read the Passages Hotel. The building held a certain allure and that strange sensation of familiarity drew him inside. The voice began to whisper to him, its tone soothing but with an unspoken sense of urgency. There was a door here and it would give him a place to stay. At least for the night...