fandomtownies | The Arms Hotel Lobby, Sunday [2/3]

Entry tags:

The Arms Hotel Lobby, Sunday [2/3]

There was a very happy Mary standing at the front desk today. Maybe it was the sense of relief over having her name cleared. Maybe it was the excitement of being able to attend the final day of MercCon. Or maybe it was because she had a boyfriend who spent a lot of time last night showing her just how much he missed her. Mary wasn't about the share the reason behind the big smile on her face.

There was a sumptuous brunch spread being served buffet style in the restaurant, although the seating area spilled out into the lobby as well. Besides the usual breakfast items such pancakes, waffles and a made-to-order omelet station manned by the sous chef, there was a carving table with roast beef, a champagne fountain, and lots of hash browns. Mary liked hash browns and Gunther knew that he'd be sent back to the kitchen if there were no hash browns on the buffet.

For his part, Gunther was sulking. There was no henri sauce in sight today and the usual starched white chef's uniform had been replaced by a worn-looking polyester leisure suit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Gunther will be happy to fetch you a side of henri sauce if he thinks you're concealing a hidden camera.

After the second night, Taskmaster's brood had taken on epic proportions.

In his attempt to sleep in the bathroom the previous night, he'd seen things no amount of therapy would ever be able to cure.

So he shovelled buckets of whatever seemed edible onto his plate, searched out a spot farthest away from anywhere Hayden or Weasel might have wanted to sit, and ate.

"Minsc will miss being so well fed!"

Yes, he was telling this to the buffet table as he was carving it free of mostly all its meat, before going to find a table.

After having spent some time over at Wellspring Arms, and now armed with a Defeat Squishy, Weasel and his backpack popped up by Minsc's table.

"Would you happen to know of anyone affiliated with a hamster?"

Minsc eyed the fellow with the eyeglasses. "I...would. But he is no normal hamster, either, but a giant miniature space one. And he has since departed in my company again, I have to admit. I think..." Here Minsc drew in a breath and leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "he may have taken an unhealthy longing to some of the squirrels that run along all over this place!"

"Well, then I have some grave matters to discuss with you!"

Let it never be said Weasel couldn't tap into speech patterns. He flopped down in a chair opposite Minsc. "I have reason to believe your giant miniature space hamster has a gambling problem."

"Salaciousness!" Minsc frowned deeply, "and now gambling! Good sir, I do hope you have proof to back up your soiling allegations on my comrade's reputation!"

Ceremoniously, Weasel took off his backpack, pulled open the zipper, and presented Boo to Minsc. And the table. "He owes me three-- five thousand bucks," he said. "He played poker all night."

"Boo!" It was difficult to tell, really, if the gruff outcry was mostly excited or upset. Boo, meanwhile, immediately went scurrying for the food on Minsc's plate. "So that has been where you have been! Gambling all night! I never! That is no way for a warrior to behave, Boo! Are you listening to me, Boo? Boo?"

He realized that Boo had probably been drinking all night along with this gambling, which was why he was too hangovery to respond. "It is only what you deserve," he muttered before turning a worriedly frowning forehead toward Weasel. "Is this true? You had discovered the hard way that Boo should especially not be gambling when Boo has no money to be gambling?"

"Texas Hold 'Em," Weasel nodded, leaning over to steal something off Minsc's plate. Hey, the guy seemed to have a lot of food. "Five thousand bucks. He wouldn't quit. 'No, Boo,' I told him, 'You have no cash, you can't just dump this on your buddy', but he wouldn't stop. It's a matter of--" he stole another piece of meat, "--honour, you see."

Minsc was frowning thoughtfully as the hamster and the Weasel picked away at the food on his plate. "Well," he said, finally, a moment's span later and quite reluctantly, "I guess I can see if it might have been for honour. But, Boo, you know you are terrible with games like that; you have a horrible poker face!"

He sighed, heavily, shaking his head mournfully. "Five thousand, you say? Truly? That much?"

"You know I wouldn't have come to you for any less," Weasel said, with a true and sincere level of gravity to his voice.

Except for where it wasn't sincere at all.

The frown marring Minsc's already battered broad face deepened even more and he shook his head with the utmost dismay. "You see, then there is a grave, grave problem with my friend's foolish frivolity, as I? I have nae much more money than he. I am afraid, good sir, that we are terribly, terribly in debt to you..."

Suddenly, chest swelling with a sort of determined conviction, Minsc slammed his fist firmly on the table. The plate jumped, Boo jumped, little peas on his plate jumped onto the table and rolled away onto the floor. "I can nae let an injustice such as this stand!" he announced. "Sir, I will indebt to you my services! My honour now binds me to do the good thing and promise to you my trustworthy boot and sword and fist until this infraction is remedied!"

Weasel paused. Huh. Well, that wasn't entirely what he'd been going for, but... "Have you ever considered working for a mercenary agency...?"

Hey, it might get him a bonus from Sandi. He pasted his best unweasely smile on his face, and tried not to jump back at all that sheer conviction.

Ruefully, Minsc shook his head. "Minsc must work, for the most part, alone; he is already dedicated to a faction, though it is only in his heart, as he has failed them already before."

"Well, I'm sure you can go fail your faction somewhere else," Weasel offered, with a move of his head, "Work with Agency X for a month or, oh, three, I'm sure we can call that debt of yours."

Sandi would love him. They'd been getting way too many animal retrieval jobs lately.

Minsc seemed to be carefully considering. "A month or three would not be too bad, I suppose. And it is for honour..."

"Exactly." Weasel stole something that looked like bacon. "Who wouldn't do it for honour? Honour's all we got, us mercs."

Minsc made a thoughtful, but committed sort of sound of agreement around his own chewing mouthful of sausage.

Weasel nodded. Grinning. A lot. "I'll let Sandi know," he said, "After I call Bob. Thanks. I'm sure this'll be the start of an awesome partnership."

Rude enjoyed the buffet. He was determined to. Hopefully, someone would remember to bring back his keys.

Reno had keys.

Momentarily.

Now they were flying at the back of Rude's head.

They bounced off his thick skull without getting a reaction, and Rude took another slow bite of his breakfast. Then he turned around, picked up the keys and nodded at Reno.

Payback would be coming later.

"How did she... handle?"

"Don't wanna talk about it." Reno shoved his hands into his pockets. His 'don't wanna talk about it' resolve was steady. Like a rock.

Yep. A rock. When faced with the combined forces of acid rain and a jackhammer.

"We kissed." This was said, oddly enough, as though it was some sort of issue.

"How is that a problem?" As far as Rude was concerned, kissing was only step one in "things to do with a girl in the chopper."

"And then we landed. And then she threw my coat on the ground and walked back to the dorms in the cold."

Reno scowled some more.

Ahhhh, rejection. This Rude understood.

"At least this one didn't slap you."

"Wish she had," Reno said, slouching and scowling and generally wanting to punch things.

Oooh, champagne. He'd keep that in mind for later.

"Then maybe I wouldn't want to hunt her down and fucking kiss her again."

Which, of course, would be stupid.

"There are... other girls on the island."

... Reno's hands were shoved a little deeper into his pockets and he mumbled something entirely unintelligible.

His ears were turning red. Dammit.

Rude's eyebrows raised. "Do you... have a 'thing' for this girl?"

"Hell no!"

If that response was a little too quick? Just ignore that.

Rude shrugged and turned back to his meal. "Fine. Just promise me one thing."

Reno reached over Rude's shoulder and grabbed whatever was closest off his plate.

"Yeah?"

Rude scowled at the food item leaving his plate, but saying anything about it would ruin the set-up.

"...I get to be best man."

Reno then proceeded to make the attempt to grind the food item into the top of Rude's shiny head.

"Bite me!"

Rude grinned and made no effort to stop him. "Sorry. I don't like you that way."

Reno smirked and gave Rude a bit of a shove when he was done making his partner's skull resemble the buffet table.

"You're the biggest freakin' ass I ever knew, Rude."

Jennifer sidled up to Gunther sipping a glass of champagne. "Do you have any more of that delightful sauce henri?"

Beatrix filled a plate for herself, and another for BB, oddly sad about having to leave.

Reno wasn't drunk enough.

Reno was going to find out how much champagne it took for him to get completely smashed.

Edited 2008-02-04 01:49 (UTC)

Because that's what all that open space in the lobby is for!

Man. Corner. Watching you. Again.

Dude. Right corner pocket. Not watching you watch everybody else. Pie!

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Mary will be watching to make sure that guests to not take any hotel property with them.

Murdock was sad to be leaving. He'd really enjoyed it. He ~~handwavly~~ paid the hotel clerk off in the old fashion method. Cold, hard cash. Guys on the run from the government really didn't do credit cards. Bad for business.

"I enjoyed my stay! Y'all have a real nice hotel here. I might jus come back an' visit someday."

Nope, he wasn't stealing anything. Except maybe for some wary glances at Gunther. Chef his butt. More like government agent. Murdock was still a bit irked that he hadn't been able to make the man out all weekend. Dang.

Why is she smiling so much today?*

Comment notifications are off, so ping here or e-mail me at not.a.showgirl@gmail.com if you need anything. I am flying home today so I should be around until about 7 PM EST with SP because of sharing of laptop. Then I get on a plane and 8 hour flight + 4 hours time difference = Me not being around much at all! If you don't need to talk to Mary today, please wait until Monday when I'm a bit available.

With any luck, I might even be able to watch most the Super Bowl before being held hostage by the airline. Go Patriots!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Arms Hotel Lobby, Sunday [2/3]

Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the buffet! [2/3]

Re: Enjoy the Buffet! [2/3]

Mingle [2/3]

Re: Mingle [2/3]

Re: Mingle [2/3]

Check-out [2/3]

Re: Check-out [2/3]

Talk To Mary [2/3]

OOC [2/3]