*he would be an inconspicuous old rich man with a Russian accent, if not for the small entourage of cruel-looking bodyguards accompanying him everywhere ( Read more... )

*wanders in and sits by the window with her guitar*

*begins strumming a seemingly random tune*

*sings, in a mediocre yet charming enough voice* Smelly cat... smelly cat...

*doesn't seem to realize that this isn't a place she's never been before, and definitely not Central Perk*

Typist: Phoebe Buffay of Friends. Enjoy.

A young Brittish woman walks in wearing a simple gown and hair up in a bun. She's nervous but friendly. She walks into the hotel looking around and than spies a small brass desk bell. She rings the bell and waits nervously for someone to arrive.

[Victoria Everglot from Corpse Bride. I used to RP bymyself but my Victor left so I came here looking ( Read more... )

Max exits her room, dressed in baggy black sweatpants and a tight gray t-shirt. Sneakers are on her feet and there's a black hairband around her wrist. In her left hand is a water bottle and a small black backpack with a red logo of what looks like someone riding a bike. (How her Jam Pony backpack got into her room is beyond her, but hey, she's not ( Read more... )

*Some time during the night, a small, greenish house with a reddish-purple roof and purple-tinted windows has appeared and connected itself via metal tubes to the Desperate Screen Hotel ( Read more... )

First, there is the dripping noise, of sea-water falling to the ground. It grows louder, and then the soft thuds of somebody walking with a wooden leg can be heard, echoing down the hallway. Faster than his form would bely, Davy Jones appears around a corner, claw-hand, tentacles and all.

"I am Davy Jones. I am the sea." He says, in low growl ( Read more... )

He's brooding, or pouting at least, and tensely wary of this sudden change in his surroundings. After a moment, however, during which nothing scary jumps out at him, takes a swing at him or tries to scratch his face off, he relaxes minutely with a resigned sigh and shoves his hands into his jean pockets, hair falling into his eyes. The effect is ( Read more... )

He enters stiffly, hiding more than a touch of diffidence behind a smug, self-satisfied expression.

With a smart(ish) click of his heels, he stands to attention, twirling his right wrist in a long, foppish, extended, long, effete, boring, and did we mention incredibly long salute.

I expect you've all missed me.

He bounces on his toes whilst ( Read more... )

He walks in, entirely lost but somehow not really looking all that distressed about it. In fact, he's disarmingly confident about the whole affair.

He looks around the place, and beneath the charming smile on his face, he's clearly assessing the situation.Wow. Really. I didn't think I was that drunk last night. *shrugs and smirks* Hi there; ( Read more... )

A good looking blond man, dressed in a suit and lab coat wanders in. He looks around, rather confused.

"Er... hello?"

Typist: I fail at intros, shush. Yes, this is Chase from House. Have at him. I blame People. They know who they are.