T.R. Lansing (darkertides) wrote in horror_story, @ 2012-10-04 11:11:00 |
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Rob wasn’t comfortable sleeping in strange locations, and would have slept lightly even if he had approved of the location, the general state of his room, the neighbors... in short, everything. As it was, he approved of literally nothing about the situation at hand, so slept fitfully. He was awake before the alarm was set to go off at five, and so the alarm was silently relieved of its duty and Robert York set about his morning routine sans herald. He moved quietly, systematically dismantling the changes he’d made to the room. Skinning his private sheets from the bed, as well as his pillowcases, before folding them down into uniform, compressed squares and packing them away. He took a long shower, using his own toiletries, and thoroughly dried himself (with his own towels) as well as his product bottles before he stepped out to get dressed. This didn’t take very long on its own. He was a man who could dress impeccably while blindfolded. The knot in his tie would still be perfectly centered. There were many other things he could do without the aid of a mirror. Shaving, brushing and flossing his teeth, cleaning his glasses, filing off any rough edges on his nails. Everything was so well-practiced that Rob could go from waking to fully dressed in exactly thirty-five minutes, with a perfect mental picture of how he looked without once consulting a reflective surface.
What did take time was the ritual drying of the towels. For this, Rob was willing to use the handheld blow dryer provided by the hotel. It seemed the lesser of two evils when compared to trusting the hotel staff to launder his things, but it did take a while. Rob used the time to meditate, calming himself with the mechanic sound of the dryer. A kind of soothing prayer that resulted in two dry towels (one large, one small) that could be packed without jeopardizing the dryness of his clothing or risking any sort of mold smell. His nose was somewhat sensitive, and he couldn’t abide a musty suitcase.
Because he was in a hotel, this ritual was followed by the added ritual of inspecting his room for any wayward possessions that had managed to move out of place and hadn’t been gathered during the dismantling process. Despite the fact that Rob did not scatter his things, so rarely - if ever - had anything go missing, he still went through the motions. It was better to be safe than sorry, after all. At a quarter past six, he turned on the television to consult the local weather forecast, clicking the volume up to a level that was tolerable, but would still be loud enough to forewarn Eden in the next room that he was awake. He gave her precisely fifteen minutes’ warning, and then knocked three times on the door that divided their suite.
Sleep and Eden were far from bosom companions. In fact, they were mortal enemies more often than not. So after her idle chat with Sue at the bar had ended, Eden had traipsed her way back to her room. Three martinis hardly made her anything more than pleasantly buzzed and made the walk back interesting at most. Then she'd laid in bed for what seemed like hours before resorting to checking on spreadsheets on her laptop.
Even that didn't help for long. Sleep was going to elude her tonight. Maybe it was anxiety over the storm. Or not. She wasn't going to introspect on the subject. She lay there now, the dim ambient light from the table lamp and the bright backlight from her laptop illuminating their respective sides of her face.
She was almost to sleep, when Rob turned the hair dryer on.
"Seriously, Rob?" Eden scoffed, turning over to check the time on the alarm clock on the table. An audible groan escaped her lips as she let her arm fall over her eyes. "It's not even six o'clock yet."
T. Robert York, Eden had learned, was a creature of habit. He rose at god-awful-early in the morning and did obnoxious things like dry his bath towels with a fucking blow dryer. Well, okay, that was only done when in places that weren't his own, but it was still obnoxious. Removing her arm, and turning to glance at the clock again, she decided she should freshen up and get ready to head to the airport. Hopefully they could make it to California and home, and she could entertain the possibility of getting a pleasant night's rest.
She pulled herself up, shut her laptop, and secured it in its bag. The queen of getting ready then took a brief shower, as she really didn't need more, and donned a black skirt, red heels, and a ruffled red sleeveless blouse. She then set to fixing her hair and putting on her "five minute" face. Nothing too gaudy, but enough to make her look put together and not like she'd gotten little sleep. Since she hadn't unpacked really, packing her things wasn't hard. She listened as his television came on. And waited patiently until he knocked on her door fifteen minutes later.
She unlocked it and slid it open, not looking amused at being awake in the slightest. "At least you haven't started bringing your own blow dryer." It was laced with sarcasm, and she knew it. And it honestly wouldn't surprise her if he did start bringing his own. Robert was a strange man. And while she could understand some of his neurotic tendencies --at least being in a hotel room-- it didn't make them less annoying.
“I don’t own one,” he replied evenly, registering neither surprise at her statement - the fact that she’d heard him rise long before he intended her to - or acknowledgment of her sarcasm. He also didn’t seem bothered by the fact that she wasn’t amused. It wasn’t as if he were prone to smiling in the morning, or any other time of the day. Expecting cheerfulness from others would just be hypocritical. He looked at her, and if his eyes lingered on anything, it was her shoes. They quickly lifted to her face however, and even though she was entirely put together, he still asked: “Are you ready?”
Eden nodded in response to his question as she started thinking about all the things ahead of them on this trip. The possibility of catching a nap on the flight, actually making it to California to get things accomplished. Eden loathed having unfinished business. She glanced at her watch and then back to Rob.
"As long as our agenda takes us to get breakfast relatively soon," she stated. She was certain that if she didn't eat something shortly, her stomach would start growling. Also, coffee was starting to sound really good.
Rob considered that statement for a moment, wondering if it counted as ready if one hadn’t eaten, yet, and one was hungry. “There’s still thirty minutes until the in-house restaurant is open,” he informed her, hoping that would count as relatively soon in her mind. “You could order room service, if you want to wait here for it. I just need your key to check out, not your presence.”
Though, that did bring to mind something else. A slight frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “The weather also seems to have taken a turn for the worse. I expect we’ll have to argue with the airline for some time before we get out of here. Getting a flight may take us thirty minutes as it is.”
She glanced to her watch again, almost as if it would cause time to pass faster, before leaning in the doorway. "Well, I guess that depends on if you're hungry, and if you'd prefer room service or not." Eden wasn't against sitting in her side of the suite and finding some television program to pass the time while Rob took care of squaring away their room fare and contacting the airline. "I can hang back here if you want to order something before you head down. Or I can meet you at the restaurant at seven."
She heaved a sigh at the mention of the weather, eyebrows furrowing a bit to match his frown. "Hmm, I'm not liking the sound of that at all. But," she pushed herself away from the door jam. "I guess we'll see?"
He nodded, appreciating the understated optimism. They would see. He knew, logically, that if the airline had grounded planes the day before, then today’s weather - being worse - would only result in more frustration. However, resigning himself to that fact without at least attempting to get his way wasn’t in his nature. Of the entire York family, only his younger brother, Joseph, would have been able to take something as paltry as a hurricane warning without some kind of a fight. There was a reason Joseph hadn’t been put in charge of anything. Part of Rob was hoping that perhaps there were special cases. What about the people who had to leave the state due to some kind of emergency? A national crisis? There had to be some way of leaving Indiana, weather-be-damned, and he intended to find it. “Hn.”
Of course, if it couldn’t be found within thirty minutes’ time, then he wasn’t entirely opposed to having breakfast in the restaurant. Their breakfast fare would likely be better than the dinner offerings, and it least it wasn’t the bar. “Should we call the airline before going down, do you think?”
"Probably not a bad idea. That way we can actually enjoy breakfast if we're grounded another day." Not what Eden was hoping for, and it was written in the expression on her face. Though, if they were stuck at The Eclipse another day she'd have a chance to take a nap in a bed rather than on a plane.
She gave him a half smirk. "If anyone can get us on a plane out of here, it'd be you." It was the truth. Aside from Christine, his mother, Robert was probably the most stubborn individual Eden knew. She'd make the call if he asked her to, no questions asked. But seeing as the original tickets had been booked under his name, she figured it'd be easier for him to contact the airline.
As much as she didn't like entertaining the idea of being stuck in Cantonville another night in a hotel room with walls that did a horrible job of blocking outside noise. It beat other possibilities her mind now considered --Horrific plane crash topping that list. If given the choice of dying in a crash or death from boredom, Eden Williams chose boredom.
She went now to make herself some coffee. Something to hold her over until they made their way down to breakfast. "You want some?" She asked, motioning toward the coffee pot on the counter.
Rob was already on his way over to the phone by his bed when she offered the coffee, but he did nod and wave his hand in assent. Yes, yes, yes. Coffee was a fine idea. That was exactly the sort of thinking that earned her very close to six figures a year. Or was it already six figures? He wasn’t in charge of payroll, so didn’t know for certain. His mother would know. She’d be able to state it right off the top of her head. Someone’s exact salary, down to the cent (not to mention holiday bonuses, accrued PTO and unspent vacation time). Rob had a head for numbers, and an impressive memory, but it wasn’t as if he looked at everyone’s pay stubs. That sort of thing fell under the umbrella category of personal information, and he wasn’t sure it was even appropriate to know that sort of thing. He also didn’t know Eden’s birthday, sexual orientation, or body weight. Due to trips together and shared meals, he did - oddly - know her wine and food preferences, but had learned over the years that women actually did not like it when he ordered for them in restaurants, even if he was ordering what they would choose for themselves. He’d only made the mistake of doing it once with Eden before learning that she didn’t like to be spoken for. Rob was a fast learner.
He consulted his cell for the correct airport number. He’d already learned the hard way that the hotel had wretched reception, and wasn’t even going to attempt to try reasoning with airline personnel without the security of a landline. It was important that they heard every ounce of his discontent. The conversation started pleasantly enough, if in Rob’s standard clipped, terse tone of voice that he always used. “Hello. I need to schedule a flight to SFO, preferably before noon. ...Yes, I will hold.”
And hold, he did. Rob stood motionless, holding the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to be transferred to the appropriate, unfortunate employee. He didn’t pace when he was on the phone. There was no bored fidgeting or doodling. When he became annoyed, his tone became a little louder in volume, but it also remained disturbingly even. “Yes, I’m aware of the weather forecast. …. You can transfer me to another airline, then, if you can’t do your job. ….What’s your name, miss? …Kathy, do you enjoy your employment at the Cantonville airport? ...Because it seems to me that Cantonville hardly needs an airport, if flights are unable to fly in and out of the damn state. ...Kathy, do you have a supervisor? …Put me through to that person, please. ….Well, that may be, but I would still like to hear it from your supervisor. ...Kathy, these are simple instructions. I would like to speak to your supervisor, and then I’m going to speak to their supervisor, and if this continues until I have to speak to whichever boondock Indiana government official is in charge of its airports, I will do my part to convince them that the Cantonville airport property would better serve its community as yet another fucking outlet mall. Now, put me through to your supervisor, please. ...Yes, I will hold.”
Eden busied herself with making coffee, which in all honesty didn't do much as far as passing time. Brewing a cup took mere minutes, and while the second one brewed she took to adding sugar and creamer to the first. Much akin to his knowledge of her food and drink preferences, she was aware that he didn't take cream or sugar in his coffee. So once she had hers squared away, she gathered both cups and escorted them in Rob's direction.
Rob was Eden's opposite when it came to being on the phone. Especially when she was impatient. Most professional calls she made were done when she was well rested and able to compose herself. Had she been the one to make the current call, she would have been pacing by that point. And she'd been prone to angry outbursts of frustration in the past. Though, those were mostly reserved for personal phone calls with her brother. She really didn't like getting worked up when she didn't have to be. Ja'von knew every little thing that pushed her buttons. And, to Eden, it seemed that he'd made it his life goal to annoy every ounce of her being at least once. She considered that "younger brother prerogative" and usually didn’t let it bother her once she hung up.
She turned her attention to the television until he told Kathy, the airport employee, that he would hold for her supervisor. That was the moment that she turned back and handed him the cup of black coffee. Had she not been the York family's accountant, her mother told her that she'd make a great personal assistant. Despite Eden's insistence that she would have hated the job. Eden wasn't the type to be completely at someone's beck and call as she pictured a PA to be. Sure, she could schedule meetings and take notes. But it also translated to having to be more social than she'd have liked. The woman liked her job. Enjoyed sitting at a desk with numbers to keep her company. She liked being able to go home when her daily tasks were completed and generally not worry about something until the next morning. She also enjoyed being able to go on business trips and have some time to relax. Not knowing all the PA job entailed definitely colored her opinion of it.
Though, reflecting on the current conversation on the telephone, she'd take being an assistant over being any the poor unfortunate souls working at the Cantonville airport this particular morning.
The coffee was accepted gracefully, and if it was difficult for Rob to juggle drinking coffee and threatening airline employees on the phone, it wasn’t shown. He still didn’t pace or physically show impatience or annoyance. Nor did he sit or relax in any way. Standing straight, with perfect posture, Rob sipped his coffee and informed Kathy’s supervisor that a flight out of Cantonville was required. He sipped his coffee again before asking the supervisor how much they enjoyed their job. To be fair, it did take Rob a while before he actually dropped his name, and he actually refrained from mentioning either of his parents. It was a great show of restraint that lasted about as long as the coffee did.
By the time he hung up, the cup was empty, and they still weren’t booked on a flight. His tone when he finally spoke to Eden wasn’t apologetic, because Robert did not apologize. However, there was an undercurrent of defeat in it that he wasn’t used to having. No amount of threats, or bribes were significant enough to risk the safety of an airline pilot, it seemed. As a York, Rob felt secure enough in his own immortality to not have considered their safety, had he succeeded in getting them off the ground. “Apparently we’re being obligated to spend another night in Cantonville’s finest establishment. Has it been half an hour?”
The news that had been on the television wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Typical news program, full of a bunch of local stuff that Eden didn't care about. Her interest only perked when they would briefly mention the weather, only to return to pensive silence when things didn't miraculously clear up. Yeah, she was hoping for a miracle. Would anyone blame her? She probably wasn't the only one.
Her attention returned to Robert as the phone was returned to its cradle. She heaved a sigh in response to his news and finished off the last of her coffee before glancing at her watch. "A little more, actually." She returned to her part ot the suite long enough to retrieve her handbag, tossing the disposable cup in the trash alongside her own bed before returning and motioning toward the door. "Shall we?"
The noise he made was essentially, “Hnn,” but it was intended to be assent, as well as acknowledgment. He nodded at her to go ahead, so that he could lock the door behind them. As he made his way to the elevator, he did consider engaging in small talk. He knew the formalities. Ask how she’d slept, posit theories about the weather shift and the constructional integrity of the hotel’s architecture, maybe mention the fact that he’d met with a psychic. Well, the last one would probably actually get an interesting response. By the way, Eden, I had a drink with a psychic last night. Not alcohol, of course, but it was an interesting conversation. She’d certainly raise an eyebrow at the very least.
Instead of mentioning the psychic in the bar, however, he just pushed the elevator button for the lobby and waited, one hand folded against the other behind his back as he looked up at the numbers instead of the fire-engine red, breakfast-inappropriate shoes his financial advisor was wearing. After a few tensely quiet moments, he did manage, “I hope you weren’t too disturbed by the neighbors. I tried to have us moved, but there aren’t any other acceptable suites available.”
She contemplated small talk as well, but decided against it as they made their way down the hallway. Instead she focused on their muffled footsteps and the monotonous diamond pattern of the carpet, and watched Rob as he pressed the button to call the elevator. Her handbag hung from her fingers at her side as she stood beside him, gaze on the doors.
It was when he spoke that she looked at him again, slight amusement written on her face. "They didn't bother me," she said. She'd heard just as much as Rob had. Hotel walls were seldom as thick as people seemed to think they were. Or perhaps it was the fact that it was a hotel that made people, especially couples, not care about their noise levels. But it didn't bother her. If that had been the case, she'd have made her way over, knocked on the door, and told them to keep it down. Simple as that.
The amusement turned to a smirk, and faded after a brief moment. "Blow dryer alarm clocks, however," and she let it hang there. Admittedly, anyone turning on a hair dryer at that hour of the morning would have bothered her, not just Rob. Alarm clocks that weren't hers, showers, televisions, and sex were all things Eden could sleep through. Children running in hallways, fire alarms, and blow dryers were among the list of things she couldn't.
When the elevator doors opened, she made her way inside and waited for him to join her before pressing the button for the ground floor. She'd have suggested the laundry room, though she wasn't sure it'd do any good. Rob did things how Rob liked to, and nagging at him wasn't her job. She wasn’t his personal assistant, mother, or significant other. When he dried his towels again, she'd hopefully be well rested, and not as easily annoyed with it.
“You heard that, with an entire bedroom and two closed doors between us, but not the perverted transgressions taking place one wall away?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow as he stepped into the elevator. Rob couldn’t fathom how a woman could sleep through everything but the innocuous hum of machinery. He found motors rather comforting, personally. They were white noise. Signs that the system was functioning properly. Electricity worked, devices worked, something - somewhere - was progressing. “How positively selective your hearing is baffles me.”
“People have sex, Rob. It’s natural,” she replied simply. Machines were man made and therefore sounded foreign. But she wasn’t about to explain how her brain worked to him. It wasn’t worth the effort. “And you can’t tell me that I’m the first person you’ve met with selective hearing,” she rolled her eyes a bit. If he had, she’d not believe it. Selective hearing was an inherent human trait. At least as far as she was aware. But again, she didn’t feel she had to explain herself. It’s not like Robert was a simple minded man. He was actually very smart, and Eden knew it.
When the elevator came to rest on the ground floor, she made her way toward the restaurant. So she might have had a slight case of tunnel vision at this point. She was hungry.
"The coupling going on last night was far from natural," Rob commented, a bit more loudly than he probably should have, given that they were no longer in the privacy of their own suite. He easily caught up with her in time to open the door for her, ingrained politeness winning out over any irritation. "I believe it was two men together. There were also two men together in the bar last night, not to mention a man who looked to be the very picture of sexual deviancy. I've every reason to believe that this is some kind of rural hot spot for homosexuals and criminals."
The poor hostess took that moment to interrupt them by clearing her throat. "Ahem. Table for two?"
"Yes, thank you." He did not apologize for disparaging the hotel in front of an employee, largely because he felt as though he were in the right. However, he did allow the woman to lead them to an open table, so that they could sit down and make an attempt at having a civil breakfast. Another cup of black coffee, scrambled egg whites with tomato and green pepper and an english muffin would set things to right.