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The Arms Hotel, Saturday

"The island is cold, the hotel heat is pleasant, and Gunther - you know, the chef? - is in the kitchen cursing his inability to julienne ice cream. Welcome... to the Arms Hotel."

Look, Nikolai wasn't often talkative quite the way he was today, but, dear readers, he was in a good mood. You see, readers, today he'd run headlong into a distressed hotel client who was galloping down his hallway, claiming that he was going to fly, and he and the running man both had been sent sprawling - sprawling! clear across the hotel floor. Well, readers, that was only the start of Nick's surprise, because, without realizing that his shades had been sent flying too, he'd pulled himself to his feet to help the no-longer-running man up, and, would you believe it? Eye contact did nothing! Absolutely nobody had passed out, or even felt the least bit dizzy!

And, readers, while there really was no way to ask 'I don't suppose you happen to be dead, sir?' without sounding odd, Nikolai had managed to do so, and to calm him down by musing that his unexpected tendency towards flight was probably another one of those island things that would be gone by the end of the weekend, and, you know sir, you probably shouldn't be attempting to fly while indoors anyway. That was how people got themselves hurt.

So, Nick was at the front desk today, taking calls from hotel customers and his own starlet clientele back in Hollywood, with his shades sitting next to him on the counter and Gunther in the kitchen, swearing at the deep-fryer for not cooperating.

Nikolai would explain that it actually needed to be turned on before you could fry anything in it, but deep-frying an entire watermelon was probably a poor idea anyway... later. For now, rather than looking for a specials board, he strongly recommended that the island's residents find some other establishment for all of their dining needs. Would he be presumptuous to suggest a few wholesome, island-approved restaurants that hadn't recently been involved in an unwarranted, unscheduled invasion of the island, resulting in mass-yet-temporary loss of life? Well, readers, he'd probably suggest a few anyway.

The Arms Hotel is open!

[OOC: I LOVE THIS WEEKEND I'M JUST SAYING. Um. Open! OCD-free!]

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Of all the things Drac had managed to accomplish and set straight and clean and pay and organize these past few weeks, there were still two things he hadn't finished:

1. Getting Zombie Joseph Favre (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Favre#Master_chef) to cook for the Hotel Transylvania while Quasimodo was on vacation in three weeks, and
2. Choosing a play for the semester.

Which was why Drac was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, waiting on a reply telegram from Murray's trip to France and reading script samples.

"Hey, Drac," yeah, Nick was interrupting. No, he didn't seem terribly inclined to care, today. He was all full of words, and... still in a damn good mood, really. Realizing that you could look at people without sending them to the emergency room kind of had that effect on a guy. "It's been a while since I've seen you around. I really need to get off the day shift."

More now that he was spending most of his nights running around Baltimore.

"How've you been?"

Drac looked up from a play that required 42 actors and yet somehow remained rather dull, glad for the interruption. "Mr Bartamian! Good evening. I have been fairly busy, I'm afraid. Spending far too much time in my rooms and at the theatre."

"And you? Feeling more comfortable on the island?" He certainly sounded like he was.

"Getting there," Nick replied, grinning easily. "It's been a bit of a challenge, settling in to a place as crazy as this one, but I'm beginning to manage, I think. It's the small-town atmosphere. I'm too used to the big city to really feel comfortable here, but a few runs out to Baltimore a week help."

Or he could have said 'yes.' That could have been a thing.

"The theater, huh? Well, I certainly hope it's been treating you well. I really need to get out there sometime and check it out. I'm used to working with actors, but most of the sort that I deal with are back in Hollywood."

Ah, Hollywood.

"Then perhaps you should come by some time. The actors are not professional, but fellow townspeople and students." Look at Drac! He'd done research enough to understand the reference to Hollywood actors! "You could make new friends; perhaps lend them some of your expertise."

"May I ask," Drac's smile grew. "You seem extremely happy. Has something happened?"

Oh, Drac. It was a good thing you were sitting down. Nikolai was about to talk your ear off.

"Right, well. There's something going on with the island today, have you noticed?" That was clearly a rhetorical question, because Nick wasn't going to stop to wait for an answer. "Something's gone through and taken some of the things some people are good at and traded it all around. There was a guy down my hall this morning who was really excited about something, came barreling down the hallway saying he could fly, and I thought to myself, mostly while I was picking myself up off the floor, 'This guy is crazy.'"

Which he still might have been. Nick really couldn't know for sure.

"The thing is, when he knocked me over, he knocked my shades off. And... well, I've got a bit of a condition with my eyes. Came from a bad run-in with some rocks during a visit to Greece last year. Anyway, this guy knocked me head-over heels and my shades came off and it's gone. It's a bit like a breath of fresh air."

If you breathed with your eyes, maybe.

"And to top it off, Gunther's making a wreck of the kitchen and it's hilarious. I'm having a good day. So. You say you want me to meet your actors, huh? I'm not a director, but I know talent when I see it. I'm an agent back in Hollywood. I'm the one that makes sure my clients get the good jobs and the good pay for doing the good work."

Drac had to stare at him. Just had to.

"That was more talking than I have ever heard you do!" He would probably give MAVIS a run for her money, and Mavis was a teenaged girl! "Please, my friend, take a moment to breathe!" And not with your eyes, please. That would be creepy.

"So abilities have been removed or traded? The island can do that?" Yes, he was blaming the island itself. Look, he aready had suspicions it was really a monster (http://screen-wallpapers.com/wallpapers/view/3176).

"Apparently it can. It's done a lot weirder, though I have yet to spend a weekend as a woman or an animal, a fact for which I'll forever be grateful."

Because, wow, he already had enough trouble wrapping his head around the killer vampire-gaze thing he had going on.

"So, I woke up this morning, and while I'm about as harmless as I was before the whole 'Nikolai shouldn't be allowed to go rock-climbing without safety equipment' thing, I'm apparently able to just... keep talking. And I don't sound half bad, if I say so myself. Is that a bit narcissistic?"

Because he really did sound pretty soothing. Even his question came out sounding fairly matter-of-fact.

"Not at all, not at all! And your voice is quite lovely, it's just that I am not used to hearing so much of it." So very much.

"Was this how you were before your... Greek tragedy?"

"Talkative? No, not even remotely," Nick laughed with a shake of his head. "My personality never did change all that much. I'm still the same egocentric jerk I always was. I think all of this talking might have something to do with whatever undid the eye thing, personally. If people are running around losing skills or gaining powers, it really stands to reason that one has something to do with the other."

He'd been thinking about this all morning. It was difficult not to when out of nowhere you no longer had to worry about knocking people out with a glance.

"Ah, I see! So when you lost your evil eye, you gained this talking ability!" The light went on in Drac's belfry. "It sounds like you received a good deal!"

There was a loud swearing from the kitchens.

"And you said Gunther didn't?" Drac was NOT going to laugh. Nope. Not at all.

Oh, Nikolai was absolutely going to laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning, clearly pleased with the way today was going.

"I had to confiscate the knobs for the deep fryers," Nick shared, "because I'm not going to be the one to princess-carry him to the clinic if he manages to blow something up in there."

Drac chuckled in spite of himself. "Another reason why I prefer zombies as a workforce."

It took a little while -- and more than one friendly pep talk -- but Raven finally made into town. She was still rocking her roommate's hoodie, but she was at least doing a little less staring at her feet while she was at it.

"Hi, Count," she greeted. "Guess what's happening to me this weekend."

Drac's tone was a little teasing, but his smile was warm as he looked her over. "My poor child! It's obvious! You've lost your sense of proper fashion and style!"

Raven rolled her eyes. Trust Drac to keep things light. She slid her hood back off her head. "Something's making people's powers go on the fritz this weekend," she said. "So I'm kinda stuck being blue at everyone."

Drac's smile didn't go anywhere and he waved at a seat near him. "Mr Bartamian, one of the managers here, has already told me about it. Apparently his eyesight has improved and he's very excited about it."

"How are you feeling about it? Not being able to change your appearance."

"Like part of me is missing," Raven admitted. "Dumb, right?"

"No no, my little one. It is your ability that you miss," Drac tsked at her. "To miss an ability is not dumb. I should miss it greatly if I was unable to become a bat."

"My shapeshifting is the only thing I know I can do really well. Well, I mean today I can throw knives, but usually. . . ."

"That is an odd talent to receive in exchange," Drac blinked a little at the thought, then shook his head.

"And it's not the only thing you do well. Not at all. Your grades are excellent, if I recall. And you showed great organizational skills and compassion when we were in the church."

"You mean when you hypnotized me?" There was a little bit of wither, there. Feeeeeel the wither, Drac.

There was possibly some eye-shifting, yes.

"That was... merely a mechanism to get you to safety?"

Yeeeeeah.

"Besides, you were still yourself."

"Mmhm," Raven said, so full up of teenager it was almost absurd. "Well, anyway. It turns out, no one's really freaking out at all, so far. So. . . ." She sighed, like it pained her to admit -- see above, re: full of teenager. ". . . you may have been a little right about some things. Not the hypnotizing, though."

Drac's face erupted in smiles. "You've seen people?!"

"I walked all the way here," Raven pointed out. Though admittedly, she'd managed to avoid showing her face to anyone that whole time. "And I kind of panicked and spent the morning trying to stash food in the common room. People kept coming in."

"And how did they respond?" Other than accepting her, of course.

"They barely blinked."

Did you know Vampires could preen? You do now, Raven.

"That is excellent news. Not that I didn't expect it." He sat back, still pleased. "And how are you dealing with that? Is it as horrible as you believed, letting people see you?"

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The Arms Hotel, Saturday

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