Aimless Wandering
Who: Billy Buddy and... someone :)
When: When he first arrives at the hotel.
Where: Wandering the halls, though it'll probably move.
What: Billy wanders the hall searching for his room.
The League had sent him off for some kind of meeting, and he was willing to do anything at this point to get away from Dead Bowie’s creepy, leer-y eyes. The man wouldn’t stop staring at him and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, especially since it was the last, lingering thing he remembered. Besides, you didn’t look at a guy like that while he was mourning the death of his… mourning a death.
Not that anyone would know he was in mourning, it wouldn’t be couth to be regretting the loss of someone who’s death was a large factor into his admission to the Evil League of Evil. But more and more these days it felt like he had to be living two lives: one inside the Dr. Horrible outfit, of who people thought and assumed he really was, and an aimless, blank existence outside of it.
Traveling out of disguise he felt it keenly, felt the lack of his amour. He’d had a debate with himself over whether or not to commute in plain clothes today, and the hassle he would undoubtedly receive as Dr. Horrible from either fans or enemies was the swaying factor. The decision left a sick feeling in his stomach but he hadn’t had breakfast so he passed it off as a food thing. He couldn’t remember wearing his disguise since he’d gotten word that he was selected to attend this meeting. It had almost been a week now. And every time he thought about that, he remembered Dead Bowie looked at him, as if the other man could see right through him.
Wherever they were sending him to, he was going to complain about the atrocious lack of proper transportation when he got there. He’d been walking for at least an hour (or it felt like) in the general direction his driver had pointed in before speeding off and was only now seeing a glimpse of the building, although it looked hazy in the heat.
Billy blinked and he was suddenly much closer, the building appearing now less like a mirage and more like a real, solid thing. He must have been daydreaming, he rationalizing, although about what he wasn’t sure. Shaking his head to rid any remaining confusion he found himself wondering why such a large establishment would be so isolated from the world. It seemed odd. But he pressed on, eager at this point to simply get out of the suns suffocating heat because it was clearly beginning to affect him.
It appeared as though he arrived at the front of the building, which was a relief; the prospect of having to walk around the giant thing in order to get inside wasn’t all too exciting. Opening the doors he almost melted into the climate controlled air, sighing as the coolness enveloped him.
There was a man by the front desk that smiled at him pleasantly and Billy eyed him with caution. “Welcome,” the man said and Billy nodded, closing the door behind him and coming up to the desk.
“I need to, uh, check-in…” Staying at hotels wasn’t a pastime of his and he wasn’t really sure how this worked.
The man didn’t seem to notice his hesitance and offered him a book to sign in, along with a set of keys he placed on the counter. “Sign here and these are to your room.”
Quickly Billy signed in his still-the-same-since-grade-school narrow, slanted writing, taking the keys in his hand and staring at the man before clearing his throat. “Thanks,” he said, slowing turning around and continuing down the hall. When the man didn’t chase after him he assumed it was the proper thing to do.
When: When he first arrives at the hotel.
Where: Wandering the halls, though it'll probably move.
What: Billy wanders the hall searching for his room.
The League had sent him off for some kind of meeting, and he was willing to do anything at this point to get away from Dead Bowie’s creepy, leer-y eyes. The man wouldn’t stop staring at him and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, especially since it was the last, lingering thing he remembered. Besides, you didn’t look at a guy like that while he was mourning the death of his… mourning a death.
Not that anyone would know he was in mourning, it wouldn’t be couth to be regretting the loss of someone who’s death was a large factor into his admission to the Evil League of Evil. But more and more these days it felt like he had to be living two lives: one inside the Dr. Horrible outfit, of who people thought and assumed he really was, and an aimless, blank existence outside of it.
Traveling out of disguise he felt it keenly, felt the lack of his amour. He’d had a debate with himself over whether or not to commute in plain clothes today, and the hassle he would undoubtedly receive as Dr. Horrible from either fans or enemies was the swaying factor. The decision left a sick feeling in his stomach but he hadn’t had breakfast so he passed it off as a food thing. He couldn’t remember wearing his disguise since he’d gotten word that he was selected to attend this meeting. It had almost been a week now. And every time he thought about that, he remembered Dead Bowie looked at him, as if the other man could see right through him.
Wherever they were sending him to, he was going to complain about the atrocious lack of proper transportation when he got there. He’d been walking for at least an hour (or it felt like) in the general direction his driver had pointed in before speeding off and was only now seeing a glimpse of the building, although it looked hazy in the heat.
Billy blinked and he was suddenly much closer, the building appearing now less like a mirage and more like a real, solid thing. He must have been daydreaming, he rationalizing, although about what he wasn’t sure. Shaking his head to rid any remaining confusion he found himself wondering why such a large establishment would be so isolated from the world. It seemed odd. But he pressed on, eager at this point to simply get out of the suns suffocating heat because it was clearly beginning to affect him.
It appeared as though he arrived at the front of the building, which was a relief; the prospect of having to walk around the giant thing in order to get inside wasn’t all too exciting. Opening the doors he almost melted into the climate controlled air, sighing as the coolness enveloped him.
There was a man by the front desk that smiled at him pleasantly and Billy eyed him with caution. “Welcome,” the man said and Billy nodded, closing the door behind him and coming up to the desk.
“I need to, uh, check-in…” Staying at hotels wasn’t a pastime of his and he wasn’t really sure how this worked.
The man didn’t seem to notice his hesitance and offered him a book to sign in, along with a set of keys he placed on the counter. “Sign here and these are to your room.”
Quickly Billy signed in his still-the-same-since-grade-school narrow, slanted writing, taking the keys in his hand and staring at the man before clearing his throat. “Thanks,” he said, slowing turning around and continuing down the hall. When the man didn’t chase after him he assumed it was the proper thing to do.