Marcus Caravahlo (_caravahlo_) wrote in horror_story, @ 2012-11-13 23:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | bryant, complete, cycle001, ian, marcus, nona |
Who: Marcus, Ian, Nona and Bryant
When: 10:25 PM (Almost 3 and a half hours since lights out, 20 minutes after the elevator scene)
Where: Third floor, the stairwell.
What: Marcus tries (and fails) to find his room. Ian enlists his help locating a tiny blonde... who Bryant already found! It's a madhouse!
Warning: Language.
Several hours in a fucking elevator with a handful of bitchy assholes hadn't been anything close to his idea of a good time. By the end of the ordeal, Marcus badly needed a drink... but while some parts of the hotel seemed to be lit with dim emergency lighting, the bar was not one of them. He made a token offer to walk the little blonde author back to her room, which had been somewhat chivalrous of him, but the righteous bitch shot him down. She couldn't exactly be blamed for that. The smell of human sweat and vomit from the elevator was still in both of their clothes. Not exactly the most compelling aphrodisiac, but for some reason the rejection pissed him off more than it normally would have. So did the closed bar. He shoved someone he thought was an employee aside, trying to find his way to the stairwell by cellphone light.
There was no way he was going back into an elevator again, not if he could help it.
Instead of the stairwell, he found the lobby, not at all sure of how he'd gotten turned around. Someone gave him a cheap plastic flashlight. That was definitely an employee, but he accepted it with a rough thanks, asshole. His phone was not all that helpful, and didn't have a lot of battery life left. With the flashlight, he was able to make his way up the stairs, going up to the fourth floor at first and having to backtrack. Why the fuck was he getting turned around in a hotel with only a handful of floors? It was fucking ridiculous, and that was pissing him off the most. When he found the third floor, it was a long, arduous process of checking door numbers and trying to remember which one he had a key for. He wasn't at all quiet about it. Without the wherewithal to check the note Bryant had left in his contact list on his phone, Marcus began to check his key in random doors, and grow more and more frustrated when they didn't work. “The fuck...”
It was maddening. All he wanted was a hot fucking shower, and he couldn't even find the right door. The oppressive darkness wasn't helping. He felt like he was being watched. Laughed at. Like this was all some kind of overly elaborate joke at his expense. A fucking prank.
Marcus had never reacted well to pranks.