I can hear the voice inside my head

Isabel raced back to her room and threw open the door that led to the loggia.

( Racing against time )

George sat at the bar, nursing a pint. This really was the land of the well to do, it was going to take some getting used to, but he'd give it a go.

His eyes trailed over all the patrons. He wanted to look for a likely young lady but out of habit he was more attuned to scanning for known faces. He spotted a couple of likely lads he recognised from the drugs squad wall, but they were small fry and he didn't pay them too much mind. If a larger fish came near them, it might get more interesting, so he settled back and continued to scan the bar.

Jess wasn't sure what she was doing sitting in the hotel lobby. Maybe it was because she was mostly broke at this point and didn't feel like going out and hustling money. Max was sleeping, which was good. Because Max needed the sleep, but Jess, she was restless and itching to do something. She should go take a walk, but the heat outside threatened to kick her ass the moment she stepped outside. So she opted to stay in the lobby where there was air conditioning and just sit back and read one of the travel magazines they had. Places she'd never go because dead girls can't go places. At least she could imagine going there. She rolled her eyes a bit crossing her legs and flipping through more. Max was all she had. She did vow that she'd keep an eye on him no matter what. She wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt him, and she by all means intended to keep that promise. No one was taking her best friend away from her.
She tossed her blond curls behind her shoulder and leaned back. Who knows what would happen next.

(for bikiniinspector)

It was faint at first, the loud grinding/wheezing sound. It rose and fell in pitch as it got louder and louder. A faint blue light flashed from out of nowhere, gradually fading in a top a blue phone booth sized box. The light on top of the box stopped flashing as the sound stopped. Moments ago, it hadn't been there. Now it stood proudly as if it had been there the entire time. Just above the doors, the words "POLICE BOX" were lit up, and a faint light shone through the small paned windows.

With the squeak of an old hinge, the door flipped open and a young man clad in a blue suit with a long tan overcoat stepped out. He frowned as he looked around at the hotel grounds.

"This isn't Cardiff," He said in a curious tone as he looked from side to side. "Doesn't even look like London...well...could still be London I suppose." He stepped away from the box, letting the door shut. "Of course, it would have to be London that...isn't London, where did you take me?" He turned to look at the box. "This isn't right, doesn't feel right at all."

He looked back around, watching some people in the distance. "Well, humans anyway...maybe humans I suppose." He tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned against the box. "I'll have to wait...see if they're humans."

(ooc - Come meet The Doctor if you are willing )

Logan ordered a couple of drinks (with umbrellas) from the poolside waitress and flopped back in his lounging chair. "College is better than this how?" he teased Veronica.

[[Open to anyone.]]

Grey is pleased to find the hotel is, in fact, still there. He wonders if anyone else is around and sets off to the bar again.

Today he isn't dressed to stand out overly much. His braids are tied back with a red bandanna and he's wearing well worn black jeans, purple boots, and a long sleeved purple shirt, unbuttoned to show the plain black t-shirt underneath.

The halls are silent as they were the last time he was here. Armed with coffee he makes himself comfortable at a table in the bar and pulls his sketchbook and pencils out of his bag. If nothing else he can get some drawing done.

It's been a really long day.

Elizabeth isn't entirely in the mood for company, but they could probably both use an opportunity to unwind and -- although she feels some reluctance -- discuss the day's events. Burying her head in the sand about what's going on in her city is the last thing she wants to do. No, it's better to have an informed opinion.

That's why when she steps through the door (and locks it behind her), she's accompanied by Kate. Elizabeth unzips her jacket and puts her key down on the table. "I suspect," she begins, leaning on the back of a chair, "that this is a conversation we might want to accompany with part of the nice bottle of wine I saw last time I was here."

The hotel grounds were decked out for a huge barbecue and bonfire. It was almost as if the staff knew they could expect an influx of guests.

A tented area had a completely modable buffet and plenty of tables and chairs. The pool was lined with lounge chairs and tiki torches. Part of the lawn was covered with a portable dance floor and completely modable music was playing.

Any guests who showed up this evening were guaranteed a good time.



[ooc: activity-specific comment threads are up! see here if you have any questions.]

Well, that's just great. Twice in as many months. Whaddaya know?

The man currently calling himself Lee Chikatilo stalks through the ground floor of the hotel, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched, looking like a cross between a two-hour squall and a bad hangover. Deep green eyes, shuttered and gleaming with ire, take in every detail of the place and every person he passes, with an unnerving intensity.

After stalking out the worst of his frustration, Lee makes a beeline for the hotel bar. Alcohol being the cause of, and solution to, all problems, he figured it couldn't hurt.

Knew I shouldn't have run a Kano triad through a north-northwest ley line, he grumbles inwardly, accepting his first shot of Stolichnaya. And of course, they don't know how to keep vodka here is his next sour thought upon discovering the clear liquid's chill, or lack thereof. Grey-shot green eyes take a cursory sweep of the immediate vicinity, ensuring no one is paying him any attention; then he pulls a small, blackened bone from an inner pocket in his battered WWII-style bomber jacket. Staring into the shot glass, he looks furtively about again, careful not to make the gesture too obvious and draw attention by looking for it, then draws a single, straight vertical line on the glass with the bone, with a little flicking gesture at either end.

Palming the bone, prepared to make it disappear into any number of hiding places if need be, he downs the shot at the same time. Much better.

Veronica knocked on Logan's door, looking forward to a relaxing evening of watching movies and snuggling.

As an added bonus, her dad was out of town, so she didn't have to worry about rushing back home.



[ooc: Veronica & Logan will be discovering the hotel. First thread locked to them. Once they arrive, they're open for interaction. This is mostly to lay the ground work for tomorrow's bonfire though.]

Maedhros has been in places like this before, so although he's surprised to find himself in a strange hotel, he's not entirely disorientated. He's settled in comfortably in the years he's been here ("Stuck here") in the 21st century, much more easily than Findekano ever did.

He's dressed in modern clothes, with a bit of the rock-star look about him; long red hair, scruffy blue jeans (which, because of his height, are much too short and show off the red socks he's wearing beneath), loose white shirt with sleeves long and baggy enough to conceal the stump of his right arm without drawing too much attention to it. Black leather vest over the top, and a bandana to keep his hair covering his pointed ears.

Since hotels are pretty much the same everywhere, it doesn't take Maedhros long to find the bar, where he perches on a bar stool and orders a double navy rum. Its rich colour and caramel taste is the nearest he's found, in this age, to Miruvor. He cradles the drink in his left hand, sips it slowly, and wonders where he is, and why he's been brought here.

( [ooc: for roleplaying purposes:] )

Mara's natural suspicion of the hotel hasn't, thus far, stopped her from sampling what it has on offer. She's currently sitting at the bar, her hands either side of a glass of white wine, idly counting down the minutes until she gets paged by an irate Lucas, demanding to know where she is.

the dude walks in, milk carton in one hand, bowling-ball carrier in other hand.

"where the fuck am i?"

the dude spots the bar, drops his bowling-ball carrier, and goes and makes himself a white russian.

Kate leans against the wall. Her paperwork is conveniently stashed back on Atlantis, and she's looking around the room, watching Elizabeth casually as well. "This is nice," she says. "This is better than nice."

OOC: Elizabeth Weir, Kate Heightmeyer, and John Sheppard are currently here, but post is open to all for roleplay. Post is continued from here on atlantis.