In this empty space (the_infection) wrote in reality_dome, @ 2013-11-16 08:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | april brennan, ~cole roth |
Ghostly welcome to the house
Characters: Cole
When: Wednesday Oct 30, Night
Location: Halls
Warnings/Rating: Language
Summary: Cole attempts to figure the place out
Status: Complete
Groggy Cole had barely lifted his head from the pillow before it began to pound. No dull ache but a screaming, piercing, thud of pain that made eyes narrow and lips curl into a tight sneer. Oh yes he'd been warned that he'd be drugged and there may be "side effects" for a bit when he awoke but this was fucking ridiculous. Did they think they needed to double dose him to get him into the place? He had signed the papers. He'd made his choice. Wasn't polite to treat him as though he were a risk. He was a perfectly reasonable guy so long as he had cause to be. For now he did.
Slowly...too damn slowly...he had managed to get himself up and out of the bed. A strong shower seemed like a start to a cure all and maybe it would have been if opening the door to the bathroom hadn't greeted him with another door. "You have got to be shitting me..." not in the least; he actually had to share a bathroom and by the looks of it he had not lucked out on the draw and been paired with a female.
A damn pity.
Ignoring it all he attempted to focus on the tasks at hand. Step one wash off the damned scent of the room he'd been stuck in before this one for a bit too long. Step two attempt to make himself feel human again. Sure that involved the typical brushing of teeth and some time taken on hair products before dressing. But the real cure to the human feeling was a shot or two of the vodka they'd been kind enough to...not leave him. Well wasn't that a bitch.
Once the essentials were seen to he took a moment to really take stock of the room. Counting off the number of clothing, checking out the computer, and looking for all of those secrete cameras he knew were hiding somewhere. Sneaky bastards did not make that easy but he'd find them all eventually or he'd keep damned well looking. His room was a minor part of the house and it was every inch of that place he felt the need to know. This, all of this, was a game for him and the only way to win at a game was to know the board you were on. Know the rules. The ins and the outs.
Once outside items were seen to he checked his own items more thoroughly. Not surprising they'd taken away a few key items but the important pieces remained. The vices were gone yes; which was a rather large irritant. But the key small box brought with him filled with random odds and ends was there still. An item that delayed him a bit as each item was pulled from the box and checked; ensuring not one damn piece was missing.
Each....trinket....was there. That found a special out of the way place to be hidden.
Finally he spared a few minutes checking out the network they'd set up but reading the daily dribble of others wasn't interesting to him. Not yet.
Maybe soon however.
By the time he left his room he felt as stable on his feet as it appeared he was going to today.
By all accounts the house was as he expected it might be. A kitchen, entertainment rooms, a gym, pool....all the things contestants would need to keep from going stir crazy and killing each other. He did not find any secrete rooms or command chambers marked with large signs saying keep out. The only oddity had been the "confessional" booth that he'd come across, and had a rather deep laugh at the expenses of. He was sure he'd use that. The confessing sort of soul that he was.
Still he did not waste much time with true in depth searches; not right out of the gate. The layout was a start. A good start. But the nagging at the back of his skull reminded him of what he'd hope to find on his dissection of the house. Pain meds. He could take the time to pick apart the kitchen at least. See if there was replacement to the vodka they'd taken. Would be in poor tastes to not provide a bar here but he was beginning to believe that this show didn't care much about tastes.
The kitchen was laid out much as one would expect and before long he had not only some pills but caffeine in which to wash it down with.
If it had been a tall glass of vodka he could have explained away a shadow seen from the corner of his eye.
A person, most likely, as it was sometime late enough to be called dinner. But when he rounded the corner prepared with an all too c harming smile already plastered on his lips; he did not expect to be confronted with a ghost rather than a living person.
An eyebrow lifted sharply to accompany the "Well what the fuck..." that followed.