fandomtownies | Arms Hotel, Monday, 2/14

Current Mood: working

Entry tags:

Arms Hotel, Monday, 2/14

Valentine's Day meant roses through the lobby and a mix of romantic music over the hotel sound system. In a different year, Quinn probably would have found it weirdly touching.

This year, though, the kids all over the place kind of took away from the lovey-dovey stuff. Quinn's kid included -- okay, so Beth was pretty cool (like she could avoid it, given her DNA) but she was also exhausting.

A little after they got to the hotel, Quinn sent Beth off to help the chambermaids for part of the morning. She whined about it a little, but it was good for kids to learn the value of hard work, right? And if it gave Quinn some extra free time to do her actual job, she wouldn't complain.

Welcome to the Arms Hotel!
Today's specials: Parmesan Fish Sticks
Baked Macaroni & Cheese

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Or to Beth, when she's not being cruelly misused as indentured labor.

"Mommy," Beth whined, wandering back from trailing the maids. "I'm boooooooooooooooooored."

"You're bored," Quinn echoed, swiveling away from the computer screen. She was actually pretty happy to see the kid -- she had been getting bored, too. "Okay. What do you want to do about that?"

"We could play," she said thoughtfully. "On the computer! Or sometimes when I'm bored at his work, Daddy lets me make funny phone calls to people."

Oh, Puck, you fabulous influence.

"We could play on the computer," Quinn said quickly, since that was the lesser evil. She patted the stool next to hers and started clicking to bring up the games screen. "... what kind of job does your daddy have?"

God, Puck as a responsible (well, kind of) adult. That was weird.

"Daddy plays with tools at work," Beth said, with an excellent grasp of what her father did, clearly, as she took a seat. "But he's got a band and he says that's his real job."

"Excuse me," said the man in a black suit and sunglasses as he marched to the front desk, "I am looking for a Quinn Fabray who works at this... fine hotel."

"That's my mom," a seven-year-old girl said from behind the counter. "Is she in trouble?"

If she was, Beth's tone suggested, it would be kind of exciting.

"I'm not in trouble," Quinn said, but there was some apprehension in her voice. She had sex once and got a kid; who knew what else might go wrong? "But that's me. Can I help you with something?"

"Special Agent Mannheim," K replied as he flashed Quinn and Beth his badge. "Postal Inspection Service. Division six. May I see some sort of picture identification?"

"Sure," Quinn said, trying to ignore the fact her hands had suddenly developed a bumper crop of sweat. "I haven't ordered anything through the mail in weeks, and it's not my birthday."

As she talked, she fished around in her purse until she produced a valid driver's license. "Here."

"Mmm-hmm," K said as he inspected the card. He might be noticing the young lady's nervousness. He might also be doing nothing to calm her either. "To be honest, Fabray the United States Postal Service does not keep track of your purchasing habits or your birthday. Nor does it care. However as a member of the postal service I can say that a package is here for your acceptance."

He pulled out a clipboard and offered it to Quinn. "Please sign here and note your place of origin."

"Right, I know you don't care, I was just trying to explain why..."

Quinn trailed off huffily. "Is that a fancy way to ask where I was born?"

"That would be correct," K replied with a nod as he slipped off his sunglasses. "City and state, if you please. However the planet or solar system will do in a pinch."

Quinn lettered in her very exciting answer of Lima, Ohio and then slipped the paperwork back across the counter.

"So," she said, leaning forward, "you have a present for me?"

"Unfortunately, Miss, I do not have that knowledge," K said placing the package on the table and retrieving the clipboard. "For opening another person's mail is a federal offense subject to fines and a potential jail term."

"Fine, thanks for not opening my mail," Quinn drawled, nervousness gone. "Now may I please have my package?"

"Sure thing," K said nodding at the package on the table as he studied the clipboard. "Knock yourself out."

Quinn opened it carefully, and ...

"This is donuts," she observed, prodding one with a finger. "Jelly donuts."

Which were fine, but from the way he'd carried on she'd at least expected something shiny.

K peered briefly into the package and shrugged. "You were expecting something else?"

"I wasn't expecting anything," Quinn pointed out. "So, no."

She picked out a donut, broke it in half, and gave half to Beth. The rest would be for the other hotel staff.

"Very well then, Miss Fabray," K said with a small salute with his index finger. "You have a good day. And if you find out who sent you the doughnuts please tell that person that the sending of perishable items must be sent and packaged with the appropriate label in order to ensure freshness."

Eloise was having lots of fun exploring the island while Daddy was off hunting with that annoying girl. The hotel looked like a good place to go. As did every other building on that street. She was a curious child.

"Hi," she chirped as she came inside. "I'm Eloise."

And she was in a hotel, get it?

"Uh-huh," Beth said, looking her up and down and seeming none too impressed. "I'm Beth."

Quinn nudged her a bit, and she supplied, reluctantly, "How can we help you?"

Eloise clearly hadn't thought that through. "I was just wandering," she said brightly. Then, in the tone of someone correcting a grievious rudeness, she asked Quinn, "What's your name?"

"Quinn Fabray," Quinn said, in the tone of one who expected everyone she spoke to to know damn well who that was. "And your mom and dad are...."

"Wesley and Lilah Morgan-Pryce," Eloise replied primly. "You probably only know my daddy."

And hey, she also expected everyone to know her name! In her world, she was kind of a big deal.

"Wesley spawned," Quinn noted, to no one in particular. Yes, she was amused by this.

... never mind that she had spawned with Puck.

"Are you all into books like your dad?"

Oooh, so she knew him. That was exciting.

"That's what everyone says," she chirped. "I read like Daddy and I argue like Mother. Are you one of Daddy's friends?"

Quite the detective.

"Your dad's one of the more tolerable people at this school," Quinn allowed, which meant yes. "He's on Student Council with me."

Oh. Eloise took a moment to ponder that, tilting her head in thought.

"Is he nice?" she asked curiously.

Hmmm. Nice wasn't exactly the word she'd use for Wesley, but, then, it wasn't a quality Quinn tended to look for in friends.

On the other hand, this was a little girl. Some gram of common sense lead Quinn to say, "He can be very nice, yes. Isn't he nice to you?"

That was okay; it wouldn't be Eloise's first choice of word either. "I guess," she said, drumming her fingers on the countertop. "Here more than at home, I think. He's a lot different."

"A lot of people get different when they're older," Quinn guessed. "Maybe he's just ... busy at home."

"You and dad seem about the same," Beth chipped in. "Just younger. And dad has the stripey hair thing."

Eloise nodded. Busy with home made sense. So did the whole thing where all his friends hated him and he drank scotch all day, but she was usually at school for that part. "I guess," she said skeptically.

Then, blinking at Beth: "Your dad has a mohawk?" She looked at Quinn for conformation. "But you look normal."

"He looks normal too now where I'm from," Beth explained, hopping into the conversation to defend her father. "Mommy says when they were in high school, she was going through a bad boy phase and it lasted."

Then, because her mother was giving her a look: "But I'm not s'posed to date until I'm, like, 30."

"Me neither," Eloise replied, still wrinkling her nose a little at the whole mohawk thing. "Except Mother always says that when she first met my Daddy, he was going through a goody-goody phase."

Only Lilah Morgan's daughter could say something like that with mild disgust.

"That's what my dad says about my mom," Beth noted. "But they usually both end up laughing."

"Excuse me, there's nothing wrong with being a goody-goody!" Quinn protested.

"Mother says there is," Eloise argued. Then, considering it some more, she relented, "But you seem nice. I like your hair." Sort of.

Yes, the V-Day menu is ... fish sticks. Maybe Gunther has a kid too.

Romance and kids so do not go together -- sadly enough, since one is a consequence of the other.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Arms Hotel, Monday, 2/14

Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Re: Talk to Quinn [2/14]

Mod Your Hotel [2/14]

OOC [Hotel, 2/14]