It's all AU.

Nancy was wandering near the hotel, trying to track where Reinette may have got to, to make sure she was okay.

"Excuse me," she said, trying to get the attention of the man walking towards her. "You ain't seen a small French girl about anywhere? I'm a bit worried about her."

It was night and Spike was out again, enjoying having the freedom of the town again after so long cooped up inside.

A burst of laughter leaked out from a bar as he passed, and he paused, cocked his head, and then headed inside. He'd missed bars too.

He headed up to the bar and got the bardroid's attention. "Pint of bitter and a pint of blood, mate."

The Master tilted his head back and let the cold winter rain that had just started fall on him, and soak through his wool coat. It suited him, and he was relived that there at least a little weather, in this place, aside from one rainstorm he'd created. He wondered, absently, if he'd accidentally made the rain, if someone else else had, or if had been a bit of a group effort.

He was a little oblivious to the world around him, besides the rain.

((A place to put more threads, since some people are having trouble with loading large pages))

The Master was sitting at one of the tables savoring a shot of whiskey as he waited for people to show up. He'd traded out of his usual politician's suit, for a longer, more closely tailored knee length jacket, and had actually lost the tie. The white rose remained pinned, of course.

Everything was set up. Tables, large enough for 4 or 5 people to sit comfortably, around the outside of the room. Food and open bar at the far wall from the doors. And still a fairly large space in the middle for dancing. It was going to be interesting to see how many people showed up, because frankly he wasn't sure what the population of the town was. He couldn't help but wonder, given the malleable and mind bending nature of the this place - if more people showed up then could really fit, would the room mysteriously seem bigger? It wasn't a completely absurd idea, here.

As predicted, there were no Doctors with red roses and black converses in sight, yet.

Finally, the Master was ready to post his notice for the party. He pinned it to a large bulletin board easily viewable in the hotel lobby. In careful flowing calligraphy it read,

"All are cordially invited

To an evening of conversation, food, drinking, music, and dancing

In the company of fellow visitors and semi-residents

Located at the hotel ballroom beginning at dusk tomorrow

Dress up is highly encouraged

Less than civilized behavior while in attendance not tolerated

With warm regards,

Koschei (who will be dressed in style) & Theta Sigma (who will probably be late)"

He was trying really hard not to laugh, as he stood back and looked at it. Ok, he laughed. And then wandered off, with a stupidly happy grin on his face.

He'd walked into the bathroom one morning and found himself back in the dingy flat he'd been living in for the past five years. He didn't remember a damn thing. He went back to worry and panic and defensive anger, easy as could be. He stayed there for two and a half weeks. Give or take a day.

Then he woke up, nauseated beyond anything he'd experienced in the past few months. He bolted for the bathroom, stumbled through the door and found himself - back in the hotel, fortunately in a bathroom.

He came out of the room a few minutes later, into the hall. He was greenish white, jaw set and hurting and sick and pissed the mother fucking hell off.

Ianto stuck his hands in the back pocket of his jeans, wandering around the hotel lobby casually, curious about the place. He peered at an Mayan vase done in an ancient style but looked brand new, asking, "Do you think it's real?"

Jamie flopped down beside someone in a chair, looking hopeful, "Tell me you know where the good coffee is?"

It was going to have to happen sooner or later, Jack supposed.

Only so many roofs available to stand on, only so many places to get perspective, and too many of his analogues to be able not to coincide with them. After all, he'd already met his later self, his earlier pregnant self, and ...one that wasn't quite himself and he wasn't going to think too hard about that one.

Sooner or later, they'd end up on the same roof. At least it was flat and spacious, but his preferred gazing spot was occupied.

Moving forwards, he stood next to the man, mirroring his position, hands clasped loosely behind his back. "Nice coat for stargazing in."

Ianto was looking for the Doctor for Jack.

Pregnant Jack, Jack is pregnant, mustn't forget that Jack is pregnant and tired and

He viciously cut off his own train of thought and kept looking through out the hotel, turning a corner and running straight into someone. "Sorry! Sorry," he apologized immediately. "I didn't see you."

The Doctor spent the day exploring the town. He wandered the streets, investigated the library and the some of the bars and coffee shops, greeting the people he saw but not lingering to talk to anyone. He didn’t see anyone he knew, anyway.

He sauntered amongst the shops, vaguely looking for a new outfit, but didn’t see anything that spoke to him. He did pause at a shop window with a mannequin in a brown pinstripe suit, but it didn’t look quite right.

He ended up in a park, munching on a delicious pastry from a nearby bakery. It was a beautiful, mild afternoon and when he’d finished eating he stretched out on the sun-warmed grass. He was content and relaxed and making the most of the opportunity for a little R and R. Nothing wrong with letting his eyes fall closed and letting himself drift a little.

After some wandering and a few wrong turns, Jack finally found what appeared to be a dining area. He would have kept going if it weren't for his stomach rumbling a protest and demanding attention, so he took a detour near a cart of snacks and coffee, pouring himself a cup and grabbing a muffin. No sense in trying to figure out what was going on with an empty stomach, and a couple of Adric's crisps hadn't done much more than get his appetite started.

Taking a swig from his coffee (not bad for the afterlife), he turned and ran full-on into whomever had been standing behind him - a bit too close, he added belatedly. He managed not to spill any coffee on his uniform, but it was a near thing. The other person, however, wasn't spared.

One minute Jack was chatting with his ship's computer, sipping a HyperMartini and contemplating what it would feel like to be blown to smithereens-the next, he was sitting in what appeared to be a hotel lounge, empty glass in his hand. He considered himself lucky that his death had been quick and painless, but he wasn't quite sure why the afterlife entailed mid-21st Century furniture in neutral colors and tastefully subdued wood paneling.
"Could be worse," he told himself, looking around. But something was tickling at the back of his skull, that same subtle feeling he's learned to listen to in order to stay out of danger's way. It told him something was amiss, and he wasn't one to ignore his gut feeling when it spoke.
Pulling himself to his feet, he straightened his uniform jacket and put on his most charming smile when he heard footsteps coming toward the entry.