regan frost. (![]() ![]() |
Regan had figured out fairly early on that the hotel stopped the physical ageing process, inside and out. One of their neighbours -- someone who would become a neighbour for this woman at least -- had been here more than three times as long as Regan himself and if he understood correctly hadn't aged a day in all that time. It was one of the perks of the hotel, one of the many reasons he couldn't see himself hurrying to try and find a way out and time soon. Why rush to get back to normality and all the pitfalls of mortality that went right along with it?
The elevator arrived with a ding and he stepped inside, turning with a shrug, lifting his arms to emphasise the motion as he said, "Don't much care, personally." That probably wasn't going to be enough though, so he went on to say, "Maybe because we're all such colossal fuck ups that no one else wants us around? Who knows?" And again, who cared? Everything was free, they had a roof over their heads and staff on hand to cater to any number of needs or wants. Regan couldn't see much of a downside to that.
"You get used to it," he told her, shrugging again and proceeding to lean back against the rear wall of the elevator car, crossing his arms in a distinctly nonchalant manner.