I wonder why I never wondered why the easiest things are so hard...
Ah, Chicago. Such a huge city, with so many people, that the same dramas can't help but be played out time and time again. Sometimes, even within the same day. Today's flavor seems to be "when worlds collide."
Case in point: Ananya Chinnamalai is walking up to the entrance to the Main Gauche. She's never been the sort to avail herself of free lodging, but the pickings for marks have been a bit more slim here in Chicago than she's accustomed to, and she's a bit wary of doing too much to draw attention in current conditions. Money's starting to run a bit low (though her standards of "a bit low" may be way different than that of most people). And she doesn't really know anyone here, and would like to change that. A greater circle of contacts only helps a girl out in a new-ish city.
She's trying to figure out where to go to arrange accommodations. Little help, please?
Also trying to figure out where he needs to go to arrange accommodations is Dylan Hayes. He's not at the Gauche, though, oh no. He's standing in the lobby of the Conrad Hotel, looking around, a bit lost. He's new in town, you see. He's been wandering this beautiful world of ours, trying to find his purpose in life--namely, his ward. Dylan knows he's a guardian angel, because his Mama told him so, and she'd know. He just hasn't found that ward yet. It's a bit discouraging sometimes, but he hasn't given up.
He's got his wings out under his hooded, zip-front sweatshirt--something else his Mama always recommended, when stepping into new and unfamiliar situations--but that's covered up by the military-style duffle bag he's got slung across his back. He's a perfectly friendly and approachable guy, and would be immensely grateful for a bit of help.
And there's a case of "when worlds collide" that has nothing to do with arranging accommodations that are a step down or a step different than that to which you have become accustomed. Rachel Conway has been here nearly half a year, and doesn't need a place to stay sorted. She's in fact in the process of moving out of the Conrad as soon as Adrian tells her where they'll be going. So it's not lodging angst that has her bobbing up and down on the surface of Lake Michigan, just off Navy Pier,in a green two-piece (but modestly so) bathing suit, perched on a sheet of plywood.
...Okay, so. Storytime. When she was growing up in Santa Barbara, Rachel would go escape whatever the hell (and there was a lot of it) was going on in her house by just taking her surfboard and paddling out and just bobbing up and down on the ocean for a while. Dry land would be way over yonder, away from her, and her mom wouldn't be able to come and haul her away from the ocean, so it was perfect place to just sit and think and not be part of things for a while.
There's no ocean. And no surfboards. So she's improvised by stealing a rather large and thick sheet of plywood from the renovations in the Conrad's basement. The narration's not entirely sure how she hauled it all the way to the lake, but suspects a certain nurse who sometimes forgets himself around pretty girls and may talk too much about what he can do was enlisted. Teleportation's really got to be a damn sight better than dragging this thing down here. It's no surfboard, but it's at least keeping her mostly afloat as she dangles her legs off one side, the water rising and falling partway up to her hips as the waves roll in. And she's thinking. Getting away from things, just for a little while.
Several people have already called down from the pier to see if she's okay. What's one more?
Case in point: Ananya Chinnamalai is walking up to the entrance to the Main Gauche. She's never been the sort to avail herself of free lodging, but the pickings for marks have been a bit more slim here in Chicago than she's accustomed to, and she's a bit wary of doing too much to draw attention in current conditions. Money's starting to run a bit low (though her standards of "a bit low" may be way different than that of most people). And she doesn't really know anyone here, and would like to change that. A greater circle of contacts only helps a girl out in a new-ish city.
She's trying to figure out where to go to arrange accommodations. Little help, please?
Also trying to figure out where he needs to go to arrange accommodations is Dylan Hayes. He's not at the Gauche, though, oh no. He's standing in the lobby of the Conrad Hotel, looking around, a bit lost. He's new in town, you see. He's been wandering this beautiful world of ours, trying to find his purpose in life--namely, his ward. Dylan knows he's a guardian angel, because his Mama told him so, and she'd know. He just hasn't found that ward yet. It's a bit discouraging sometimes, but he hasn't given up.
He's got his wings out under his hooded, zip-front sweatshirt--something else his Mama always recommended, when stepping into new and unfamiliar situations--but that's covered up by the military-style duffle bag he's got slung across his back. He's a perfectly friendly and approachable guy, and would be immensely grateful for a bit of help.
And there's a case of "when worlds collide" that has nothing to do with arranging accommodations that are a step down or a step different than that to which you have become accustomed. Rachel Conway has been here nearly half a year, and doesn't need a place to stay sorted. She's in fact in the process of moving out of the Conrad as soon as Adrian tells her where they'll be going. So it's not lodging angst that has her bobbing up and down on the surface of Lake Michigan, just off Navy Pier,in a green two-piece (but modestly so) bathing suit, perched on a sheet of plywood.
...Okay, so. Storytime. When she was growing up in Santa Barbara, Rachel would go escape whatever the hell (and there was a lot of it) was going on in her house by just taking her surfboard and paddling out and just bobbing up and down on the ocean for a while. Dry land would be way over yonder, away from her, and her mom wouldn't be able to come and haul her away from the ocean, so it was perfect place to just sit and think and not be part of things for a while.
There's no ocean. And no surfboards. So she's improvised by stealing a rather large and thick sheet of plywood from the renovations in the Conrad's basement. The narration's not entirely sure how she hauled it all the way to the lake, but suspects a certain nurse who sometimes forgets himself around pretty girls and may talk too much about what he can do was enlisted. Teleportation's really got to be a damn sight better than dragging this thing down here. It's no surfboard, but it's at least keeping her mostly afloat as she dangles her legs off one side, the water rising and falling partway up to her hips as the waves roll in. And she's thinking. Getting away from things, just for a little while.
Several people have already called down from the pier to see if she's okay. What's one more?