Rooms

So what is the longest anyone has been here? Or rather, any sense of how long this hotel business has been happening? Time is relative, but I'll take a relative answer.

Martha Jones. You still want to see what I'm working on?

[Locked to Rose, Martha, Clara, and Kitane]

Right then, let's go somewhere. Get to the TARDIS!

Everyone this is Kitane, I met her at the restaurant and promised an adventure. She doesn't know how to get to our door, so that's step number one.

Rose, pick a place. Or we can do Russian Roulette, let the TARDIS pick, probably not a good idea she's always getting me into trouble.

[The memories weren't pleasant, but if Martha were getting a deeper friendship out of it, maybe it wasn't so bad overall. The anonymity of the event maybe had helped her even be more open, not that Martha generally needed a lot of help in that area. She tried to keep her demons to herself, a lot of her hopes and dreams, too, that fervent desire to do everything...but she wasn't shy and she was always genuinely curious about other people. The Hotel simply nudged certain topics of conversation that might not have come up otherwise.

[But dressed in her jeans and blazer, Martha didn't look at all dressed up like she had the other night. She felt more like herself overall, and was all too happy to find her way out of her home and back into the hotel, which also didn't look like it had been the other night. It looked like it looked when she had met Tesla. How did it do that?

[Without a clue where Jane's door was, Martha headed into the lobby to wait there, taking notes while she waited. As long as she was there, she might as well write down the observations about the doors and how they looked now. There had to be some pattern.]

[Public, as Rydia]

[She taps her pen against the page three times in succession before she finally starts to write.] Does this thing really let you talk to people in different worlds? What kind of magic is this?

To the nice woman I sat in the booth with discussing the feelings of first loves, it was nice to talk. When in Rome, it's nice to not be wandering alone.

Doctor, Clara, Rose--you all better be well!

Doctor. What have you done this time?

[She doesn't know where she is or how she got there, but she's sure it's the Doctor's fault.]

I had plans.

[Filtered to the Doctor]
I met Nikola Tesla.

[Public]
Anyone have good tips for navigating the hotel doors?

[A lot of Jack's time on the journals was spent trying not to pry, glancing over posts and comments without giving them a lot of attention. One couldn't be on them though, without noticing a few things. The two largest doors were Marvel and DC, the latter being the one that Eddie was in. He'd heard a lot about Gotham from the man with the tattoos who loved his Stephanie and his city, but he'd also learned that Gotham wasn't for him. The door was more than that particular city though, and he ventured in to simply explore, see if he felt anything that said he should stay.

No parts called out to him and the only thing that stuck firmly in his mind was what Eddie had to say: that he could make a lot of money there. It wasn't an interest, but with it came the implication that there were a lot of people there that needed help he could provide. And that was enough of a reason to venture into the door, but not enough to stay.

Not yet. There was one other door that he wanted to check. There was no guarantee that he would feel any more at place in Marvel than he did in DC, but he wanted to at least see what the other door looked like. A quick stop to give Spot a scratch behind the ears and they were off again, the bright green nylon leash loose between them. His loafers, bought in Las Vegas and worn since, were quiet on the carpeting, but there was an accompanying rasp from his jeans as he walked.]

Who: Martha Jones and open
What: wandering the hotel
Where: hotel!
When: now!
Warnings/Rating: not yet!

( Never do tomorrow what you can do today, because you never know how much time you got. )

Doctor, if you can bloody read this, this is close to my London but definitely not my London. So. Come back anytime to fix your mistake.

At least I won't be stuck as a shop girl in the 1960s. Or household help in the 1910s.

[...] So. There are lots of other worlds on this thing, yeah? [Resists commenting to the Tom Riddle reference.]. Well, I enjoy a good cuppa if anyone wants to swap stories.