Who: Liam and Open What: Confusion, possible hangover Where: The Hyperion Hotel When: Mid to Late Morning of the Fifteenth Rating: TBD Status: In Progress
To hell with whoever invented mornings. Liam blamed the English. That being said Liam blamed the English for a lot. He rolled over in the bed and promptly fell onto the floor realising shockingly enough that he didn't have a headache. That didn't seem right. He'd drunk an awful lot the night before he remembered and...
and where in God's name was he?. It looked like some kind of inn but with the strangest of devices all over the place, and strange jars of strange things that from his limited reading said they were for hair. Maybe for the likes of boys from the Pale but he wasn't like them. Oh no. He didn't hold to strange things like that. He was confused, and more than a little scared. He pulled on clothing, also like nothing he'd ever seen before and practicly ran from the room like he had so many times from the rooms of girls of Galway City.
"Hello" he called slipping out of the room and into a corridor with lots of rooms, this only added to his fear it was an inn of some kind. But why didn't he remember. Why was everything a blur and why was he so god awfully thirsty.
Actually that was a silly thing to question. All those things could be attributed to a nights drinking.
"Hello" he called again, clearing his throat. His voice sounded funny. He reached the end of the corridor and turned toward the stairs, a big staircase as it turned out like one in any manor house.