fandomtownies | Arms Hotel Lobby, Wednesday

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Arms Hotel Lobby, Wednesday

It had been calm last week. That meant it could only be very, very uncalm this week, as Jeff had found on many previous occasions. It was with a sigh of utter resignation, his head characteristically low, that he sat down. It was with a roar of equal defiance that Gunther sprinted through the lobby at that exact moment, spitting out insults at the dog.

Nana remained oblivious. She had a spoon, which was the most amazing thing in the world, and she was going to run around with it for a bit, the weird guy wouldn't catch her, and when the game was up, she'd happily chew it.

A lot.

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Blair came in after classes and looked around for someone who worked there.

Jeff thought he heard something.

So he looked up.

About two seconds later, there was a very loud thump as Jeff's forehead hit the desk. Of course it was a woman.

This would be Blair staring.

"...is there someone sober who could help me?"

"Oh, no!" Jeff said. It sounded a bit more like 'nhhh', which had something to do with the fact that his face was still pressed up against the desk. He veered up. "Oh, no, I'm sober," he said, laughing nervously, "I was just momentarily caught, er, unaware by your entrance. Not that you're a spy or anything! I'm obviously not implying that you're a spy, because that would be a bit mad."

"Why would that be mad?" Blair asked. She felt she could be a spy if she wanted to.

"I don't know," Jeff said, utterly truthfully, "Unless you actually are a spy, which happens sometimes, what with catching people unaware and entrances and everything. I'm fairly good at identifying the spies, though--" Stop talking.

He stopped.

That was good. Very good.

Blair decided to focus on the important things. "I need to reserve space for a party. Two, actually."

"Oh," Jeff said, in that sort of tone that clearly communicated he had absolutely no idea how to handle the proffered request. "Er," he said, which was a bit redundant comparatively. "Would you like to speak to Mary," he managed, finally, entirely too loud and maybe a wee bit high-pitched, "Because I think she might still be some balloons!"

He hadn't been following radio overly much.

"Does she speak English?" Blair asked. Because clearly Jeff did not.

"Usually," Jeff said, shrugging helplessly, "But I haven't actually tried talking to the balloons." He had been a bit busy getting lost in them.

Blair needed a drink. "Is there someone I can speak with now?"

Luckily for Blair, Mary was just stepping out of the elevator. Hearing the voices at the front desk, she went straight there.

"Hello, I'm Mary Connell. Is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

"Hopefully," Blair said. "I'm looking to reserve space for a party."

It was Wednesday, and so, of course, there were also sandwiches and Turtle bouncing into the lobby between classes and clubs.

"Jeff!"

Jeff veered up in the type of veer that could only be classified as 'joyful/very'. "Turtle!" he said, grinning, "Gunther's not around. Nana took his spoon."

That was pretty much his day, yes.

Turtle couldn't help laughing a little at that as she set the bag of sandwiches on the desk first and then hopped up to set her own butt down in it and grinned back. "Good for her!" she said. "It's about time that dog did some good in the world for a change."

And since Gunther wasn't there, Turtle could go ahead and lean in and give Jeff a sweet little kiss, without having to worry about if Gunther was calling her a slut in German.

"It was an ugly spoon, too," Jeff replied, a couple of instances before Turtle's lips were on his and he was hence still capable of doing such a thing, but at that point, he fell silent. "Excellent," he said, about a million years and one tiny-sweet-kiss later (it was possible he was losing some sense of proportion), and smiled like a doof.

That smile on Jeff's face made Turtle blush, but she was still grinning back similarly before blithely nudging the bag forward.

"I brought sandwiches," she informed him, in face he hadn't noticed or (more likely) forgotten.

"...Sandwiches?"

Give it four, three, two, one...

"Sandwiches!" He beamed. "Excellent," he repeated, leaning forward over the desk to steal another kiss. Succesful or not, the motion itself made him forget all about the sandwiches, and at least half of one wound up squished under his hand.

Another kiss was very nice, and, knowing full well that Jeff wasn't exactly the best on the approach, Turtle tried to move to accommodate, even if noticing the squishing of the sandwich had her snorting slightly before returning the kiss.

"That one's yours," she decided, because, well, he squished it.

"Yeah, it was," Jeff agreed, grinning. He was not looking at the sandwich in the slightest. In fact, he was failing to notice what she was referring to at all, nevermind the fact that he was still leaning heavily on half-of-a-sandwich.

And that unabashed failure toward sandwich-noticing had Turtle blushing a little more brightly, ducking her head with a little grin. "Whaaaat?" she asked, although she had an idea.

"Have you noticed," Jeff said, philosophically, "That there's something on the front of your head that's really quite nice to look at?"

"Somethi--" Turtle blinked at Jeff, a flicker of confusion in her face.

"You mean my face?"

"...Yeah," Jeff said, after he'd realised that had maybe been a slightly dumb observation. "It's a really nice one, face-wise."

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