Re: The stairwell to the eighth floor, 12:03 AM.
The stairway echoed with the sounds of many steps, and the noise pollution wasn't helped by the presence of an audibly angry young woman. "Keep up," she snapped to the young man behind her, mounting the stairs and climbing quickly. Ever since she had come to this damned place it was one thing after another. First the elevator, then those idiots on the forums, and now she was green and accompanied by what seemed to be an extra from The Pirates of the Caribbean.
If she were more paranoid, she'd think that somebody was deliberately messing with her.
Her emerald hand curled around the banister as she climbed, her clogs sending soft echoes through the stairwell. Above, she could hear a bit of chaos, the gentle squeaking of a mob of mice. She paused a moment, looking down at the nearest stair. Mice? Alright, she knew that things were a bit crazy, but there was no way that this stairwell was packed with enough mice to make that kind of racket.
Shaking her head, she hurried up the circular staircase, breath hitching in her chest as she passed a man in a white shirt clutching a pocket watch. His frantic steps reminded her of her own, but she discarded the thought - he was probably just drunk, anyway.
She reached the eighth floor, throwing the door open and rushing into the hallway. With panic in her eyes, she launched herself at the nearest doorway - #807. Slamming her balled fist into the door, she leaned against the frame, filling the doorjamb with her presence. "Hello?!" she barked, forehead resting against the door and eyes squeezed shut. "Hello, is anybody there?!" Snarling at the lack of response, she grabbed the doorknob and jiggled it roughly, yanking at the door. "Hello!" She didn't even register the stinging in her palm as she struck the door with the flat of her hand - the panic was erasing it.