"I wish somebody would tell me what in the fuck is going on here." The man in the ragged, bloodstained white suit stopped to lean against a wall, adjusting his open collar. Underneath, scratches and bruises abounded, and he looked the sort who'd been through the wringer, as a stray animal, with a curious sort of detachment
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He was new - that was obvious enough. And that the drugs in the air were having an effect on him... well, that was obvious, too. Alison wasn't affected at the moment, by some unfathomable mercy of the hotel; but then again, she didn't necessarily need to be.
Her smile was more like a smirk, confident and unconsciously sensual. "Welcome to the Love Hotel," she told him wryly. "You should get used to it; you'll be stuck here indefinitely." Not that that was all that bad, depending on whom you asked. She didn't seem to mind, by looking at her.
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Wait, there was always a catch.
"...Stuck here? --oh, no, I don't think--I mean I'm more the wandering, roguish sort, untethered by petty restraints." Like responsibility, and the law.
"You get it, right? I can't be stuck here."
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She leaned one hand on the wall, the other running loosely through her hair, tugging it back from her face slightly. That smirk hadn't left her lips.
"This place doesn't seem to care who we are. It seems to have a mind of its own. Don't ask me how it works."
Magic is the common belief, but Alison's still not sure it's what she believes. There's no question that something does control the hotel, however, and she's had to accept that.
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"What're you smiling at?" He made no attempt to conceal himself, making temporary fists instead, not at all happy with how events were unfolding.
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Alison wouldn't mention the drugs just yet. He'd figure that out by himself eventually, if he hadn't already realized something was off.
"Relax. Don't get so defensive." She leaned in toward Nick, just a little but enough to be felt. "You're safe here, more or less." It was then that she seemed to take notice of his bloody suit, though it didn't seem to bother her or make her nervous. "Safer than wherever you just were, I'm guessing."
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"Yeah, it was pretty shit there." He agreed, reaching up absently to brush her hair away from her face, "--Maybe--...Maybe I'll stay put a little while."
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At his touch on her hair, Alison leaned into him just a bit more, subtly. "That might be a good idea," she replied. She hadn't missed the way he'd looked her over, definitely knew he liked what he saw; the once-over she gave him in return wasn't subtle in the slightest, and then she met his eyes with a wicked little grin.
"Do I get to know your name?"
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"Sure, it's Nick. What's yours, sweetheart?"
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Instead, Alison edged just that much closer to him; their hips almost brushed as she slid one hand up along his neck, spurred on by his touch. If he wasn't going to be shy of physical contact, she certainly wasn't either.
"I don't know about you," she continued, "but I don't think the hall is the best place for conversation." Or other things, either, really. "Should we go somewhere else?"
On another person, that suggestion might have been innocent. On her, even though her tone was as mild as could be, the words fairly dripped with innuendo. They were so close together, his hand on her cheek, her fingertips brushing down along his throat, that it was impossible not to know what she really meant.
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