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2046-02-15 Hotel Break

From X-Factor

Hotel Break
Date Posted 2016/02/16
Location A Hotel
Participants Richard, Rosalie, Jeremy, Maxim, Tiffany
Summary The crew drops off at the hotel for the night.
Plot Road Trip
 
Ririchard.JPG Tiftiffany.jpg
Well, it's not the Ritz. On the plus side, they haven't found any signs of bed bugs on the mattresses, so they're probably safe there. And no weird stains visible. Win! They've gotten a pair of rooms with a conjoining door, which has been left open while they settle in and try to figure out who's sleeping where. Except for Sumit, who is possibly wandering around trying to find the pool. Or ice. Someone is always going to fill the ice bucket in a hotel. "Well, congrats everyone, we made it a day," Richard says wearily.

Rosalie looks a little stunned. She stands in the middle of one of the rooms, clutching the bag (soft-sided, but stylish) that she packed for the trip, staring at the carpet. She has a generally forlorn air. Also, the air of someone who is simultaneously distrusting the carpetine integrity while trying not to start blizzards.

Jeremy has sat down on one of the beds. It's possible he's just going to pull rank, or age, or something to ensure that he gets to sleep somewhere that is on a bed and not on the floor or a rollaway or a couch or a bathtub. In any event, he hasn't addressed this point. He's just sitting there, and is working on taking off his shoes like somebody who plans to NEVER MOVE AGAIN. "Go team," he says. His cheer is not untarnished by tired, but it still remains cheer.

Maxim stretches hugely, reaching up to put his hands on the ceiling and then doing a little twist that makes his back pop and muscles ripple. That's just a side effect, really. Once that's done, he sighs with great gusto and relaxes, looking around. "This is nice. It is good to be free of car for a while."

Standing not to far from Rosalie, Tiffany's hand still rests on the extendable handle of her own wheeled luggage. The other wraps around her own personal pillow. Rather stoically, she follows Ro's gaze to the dingy wall-to-wall carpeting that surrounds them. "It's going to be o-kay," she offers, lingering just a moment more before she rolls her bag over to one of the beds. Jeremy has the right idea.

"Are we flipping for who gets to share the big one?" Richard wonders, eyeing the King that's the sole bed in one of the two conjoined rooms. Then he eyes Maxim. Dammit.

Rosalie swallows, and lifts her chin. Don't think of what might be in the carpet. Don't think of what might have happened on this carpet. "I'm tiny," she says. "I can fit anywhere." Her hands grip her bag just a little bit too tightly, though.

"I can sleep on floor," Maxim offers. "It is only fair. I take up too much room." He does eye the king, though, because let's be real: he will not fit on anything smaller.

Sitting on one of the smaller beds, Tiffany fluffs up her pillow with a few punches before shoving it up against the headboard. "Do you want to share one?" She asks Rosalie, "I don't think either of us takes up much room."

"Do you hanker for a big bed?" Jeremy asks Richard with a laugh on his breath. He finishes taking off his shoes, but leaves his socks on; he flops back on the queen he's sitting on, pillowing his arms behind his head against the pillows, and crosses his feet at the ankles. "You should come sit by me."

Richard peers oddly at Maxim. "Dude, you're not sleeping on the floor. You and Sumit can take the King. I don't--" He ducks his head at Jeremy's comment. "I'm not /hankering/," he says, exasperated. He also doesn't go over to sit down, because now he's being exasperated at Jeremy.

"Are you sure," Rosalie says to Tiffany in a near whisper. "They might be...disruptive," she finishes, with a quick glance at Jeremy on the other bed. She flashes the other girl a faint smile, and settles carefully on the opposite edge of her bed. Setting down her bag, she inspects the pillows as if afraid they'll bite.

Jeremy gives Richard a shrughands face that he can't use his hands for because his arms are still pillowed behind his head.

"What? You never lived in a dorm?" Tiffany asks Rosalie, panting out a breathy laugh. She hefts her bag onto the bed and unzips it, going about setting aside her nighttime skincare stuff and toiletries. When a glittery-gold bottle of nailpolish rolls into view, she hisses and glares up at the heavens, "Damn."

"It is better I sleep on floor. If I have nightmare, I could hurt someone, and Sumit -- while very nice -- is not as soft as my Lexie. I do not mind, really. Why do not you two take king, and girls share queen, and Sumit take the third? It is fine. I have tarp in truck." Maxim, why do you have a tarp in the trunk? He really doesn't seem bothered, though, dropping his small black duffle bag on the floor in the room that has a bit more floorspace to it.

"You're killing me a little, man," Richard says, sounding pained. "Everybody's sleeping in a bed; we all need to be fresh in the morning." The more Maxim demurs, the more that quiet sort of mission leader attitude that Richard's been skirting seems to come a bit firmer to the fore.

"I lived in a dorm for a year," Rosalie tells Tiffany. She sounds a little rueful at the thought. "There were--a lot of storms that year. Thunderstorms. Minor blizzards. At the time I just thought it was a local weather system." Instead, she _is_ a local weather system. She reaches toward the bottle of nailpolish, just to keep it from rolling anywhere it shouldn't.

"You're being kinda dumb here, big fella," Jeremy says kindly from the bed, lending his support to Richard's orders with a low laugh warming his voice. It might be more supportive if he stopped lounging quite so hard. He wiggles his toes inside his socks. "We're smaller than you. You drove pretty much all of today, right? No one needs to be on the floor. Even Colossus wouldn't be sleeping on the floor. Of course, he's way older than you."

"I lived in a dorm for high school," Tiffany recounts without the faintest hint of nostalgia, "And college. Before that, my sister and I shared a room." She raises her eyebrows, saying darkly but humorously, "There were a lot of storms then, too."

"I do not know this Colossus, but I also do not want to throw Sumit through window by mistake." Maxim mutters this bit, but picks up his bag and moves it over to the king size bed. Reluctantly.

"You're not even the most dangerous person in the room," Richard says dryly, looking as unimpressed as a parent watching their child stomp to the bathroom to reluctantly brush their teeth. (Everyone brush your teeth, okay.) He exhales a slow breath, glancing over at Tiffany and Rosalie again like he's checking on them, before finally dragging over to sit on the edge of the bed Jeremy's on.

"Probably a lot less rain, through," Rosalie says to Tiffany, a bit dry. She settles on the bed and begins to relax. She extracts her toiletries from her bag (oh my), and takes off her shoes (gasp). She even gives Richard a mild glower. She's an adult. She can function in a hotel room without being checked on. In theory.

Jeremy sucks in a breath through his nose, holds it for a moment, and then lets it out in a slow trickle past his teeth. He pushes himself sitting up, folding one foot beneath him while the other falls to the floor, and sits quietly, fingers curling loosely together over his thigh. He distinctly does not comment on the respective danger levels in here. Instead, he says, "We've still got a long way to travel tomorrow so everyone make sure to get to bed early enough to catch enough sleep. We're gonna have an early wakeup." (Thanks dad and other dad.)

Taking note of being checked on as well, Tiffany leans in closer to her bedmate and while looking in Richard's direction, whispers something before giggling. Shaking her head, she stands to saunter off to the bathroom with her toothbrush and toothpaste.

{From Tiffany to Rosalie} Watch. This'll get him all flustered.

"I think I will go for run, work out kinks. I will not take too long." Maxim adds this in deference to Jeremy's request.

Richard exhales slowly through his nose and scrubs a hand across his face rather than reply to Maxim. He toes his shoes off next and smiles wanly at Rosalie, because Tiffany's already in the bathroom at this point. It's okay. You can gossip.

Rosalie blinks at Tiffany as she is whispered to. For a moment she simply looks very confused. She blinks again. Her gaze strays to Richard. She giggles, once, a single bright breath of laughter.

"Your call," Jeremy says with the drop of a shoulder in a shrug. He glances from the bathroom door and back to Rosalie again with a slightly quizzical quirk of his eyebrows.

Closing the door behind her, Tiffany makes normal teeth-brushy sounds. Like a human. No reptile people here. No siree.

Richard's smile fades. He looks between Rosalie and the bathroom door. "What?" WHAT DID SHE SAY.

Rosalie blinks up at Richard. Her dark eyes are wide, her lower lip the very faintest bit unsteady, and she looks oh so innocent and confused.

"We're too old for these reindeer games, Rich," Jeremy asides to him lightly. "They're probably passing notes."

A few minutes pass before Tiffany emerges, having put her hair up and washed the makeup off of her face. "Do we have to go right to sleep?" The question is directed towards DAD with a pout, "Can we rent a movie or something?" She hops onto the bed, bouncing as she brings her pillow to her chest.

"I /kind/ of feel like Rosalie and me are possibly around the same age, Jeremy," Richard says, glancing back at his bunkmate with a wry expression. "You're the old one." He snorts as Tiffany hops back on the bed. "And -- yeah, you're the young one."

Rosalie oofs, as Tiffany's bounce shakes the apparently none-too-sturdy bed. She bounces in response. SO THERE. Not that her bouncing makes that much impact. It's pleasantly warm in the room, like a mild summer's day.

"It's your nickel if you do," Jeremy says. He rethinks quickly and adds, "Please don't rent terrible porn." He tilts a slight, sidelong smile at Richard and adds, "You can't have it both ways. All the time you're like, you young whippersnappers, don't you have your own oldies."

"Thank you," Tiffany smirks to Richard. When she gets an answer to her question from Jeremy, that smirk flattens. Tt isn't the answer she wanted. Nickelless, Tiffany's shoulders slump as she leans back into the headboard.

"Please don't rent /any/ porn," Richard requests mildly. He scowls at Jeremy. "I'm not -- I /never/ said /whippersnappers/. You take that back. I was just surprised people still remember music that was old when /I/ was a kid."

Rosalie picks up her toiletry bag and her pyjamas and heads toward the bathroom. It is only once she is safely inside, hidden from view, that she asks, curiously, "What makes terrible porn terrible?"

"Get off my lawn," Jeremy says. He picks up a pillow and offers it to Richard in case he wants to start beating him with it, and gives him a wide and sunny smile. He says, "Uh, I don't know. What makes good porn good?" This conversation is going to get weird quickly, isn't it.

Pursing her lips, Tiffany looks into the corners of her eyes. She considers the question and even opens her mouth to answer, but decides against it. Stretching out her legs, she pushes her luggage off of the bed and onto the ground.

"I--" Richard sits there for several moments, trying to figure out how to answer this. He shoves at the pillow Jeremy offers him. Stop that. "Yeah I really don't know about that question."

There is a long silence from the bathroom, broken only by toothbrushing sounds and much splashing of water. Finally Rosalie emerges, all clean and sparkling and clad in her PJs (they have pink kittens on them. Seriously.) Her ears, too, are pink. They match the pyjamas. "I wouldn't really know," she mutters, heading back to the bed.

"Commitment," Maxim answers, on his way out. Evidently he was changing into a shirt and shorts around the corner in the king bedroom.

Jeremy hugs his pillow and snickers into the top of it.

"Wait, whut," Tiffany scrutinizes Rosalie in the nicest way possible, "Really?" She shifts her eyes.

"Not--" Richard starts to say in what really sounds like is going to be followed by 'ever?' until he thinks better of it.

Rosalie only turns pinker, her blush spreading the way down to the collar of her shirt. The air in the room turns progressively warmer; hot and a little sticky, like the tropical rainforest.

"Hey, be cool, guys," Jeremy says. He hugs his pillow harder. "Everybody's into what they're into, or not. I feel like an after school special. A weird one."

Pressing her lips inward, Tiffany gives a gentle nod to what Jeremy says. "Yeah," she agrees, gesturing to Rosalie as she puts it in terms she can accept, "You just .../use your imagination/. Nothing wrong with that."

"I'm cool!" Richard insists. "It doesn't even matter, I was just--" He stops, looking thoughtful for a moment. Then he looks back at Rosalie with a somewhat apologetic smile. "Sorry, um. I'll take some of the blame for the heat."

Rosalie swallows, and sets her toiletry bag down on the bedside table, and settles onto the bed, her face still pink. "It's not--" she begins. She gestures vaguely with one hand. "Weather," she explains. "I have to be _careful_."

"Oh, God." Jeremy falls back onto the bed and puts his pillow over his face. His next, "Oh my God," is a little muffled.

In response to the rapidly changing climate, Tiffany pulls her sweater-dress up over her head and tosses it onto her bag. Still in leggings, she leaves on the baby-doll tee she'd worn under it to keep the wool from itching her skin. It clings, briefly exposing the flat of her stomach before she pulls it back down, "Okay. This is solvable." She claps her hands, "People with power nullifying abilities." That's as far as she gets. Crickets chirp in her brain.

"Oh my God," Richard says next, then looks immediately apologetic. "I mean. Yeah I think I see what you're -- saying. Um." He looks at Tiffany a bit tragically. "Well, we just got one of those sent to jail. Honestly, that's more of a stopgap."

Rosalie picks up her pillow, and wraps her arms around it. Good pillow. Steady pillow. Neither the temperature nor her blush abates. Her eye catches the motion of Tiffany's dress, and then falls to the clinging shirt before she looks away quickly. "There are a lot of things I've avoided because--reasons," she says, voice now muffled by pillow. "Like. Er. People."

Jeremy makes a muffled noise from under the pillow he is hiding beneath.

Bringing both of her hands back, Tiffany repositions her ponytail slightly. Staying silent for a minute or two, eventually her response is to turn on the television -- ohthankgodit'snotasexscene! Shifting in the bed, she pulls the cover up and slips underneath it.

"Ah. Right." Richard scrubs a hand through his hair as he tries to look as sympathetic and not-awkward as possible. Fortunately the television provides a good draw of attention.

Jeremy rolls out of the bed to grab his bag and wander off to the bathroom with it next. Because. He's sure not taking his shirt off where any of them can see him at this point. His pillow ends up on the floor. Sad.

Rosalie coughs a little, awkwardly, into her pillow. Her gaze goes right to the television. The room might be a degree or two cooler. After a long moment, she unfolds herself, puts her pillow carefully behind her back, and pretends she's normal.

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