Turning to drink out of frustration and boredom; open RP
Just a couple days after stumbling into this bizarre place, John found himself seated at the bar, nursing a Scotch. He'd taken the key the Bellboy designated for him -- despite never having actually checked in -- and gone to his assigned room for the night. He'd wanted to call his wife but had found the room phone to be out of order or something
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"Stacy?" He glanced behind her to see if she was with anyone else, but it was just her. "What are you doing here?" He stood up. "I mean, I'm glad you are -- it's good to see a familiar face." He gave a slight smile, but couldn't mask his uneasiness. "Do you, ah, have any idea what's going on here?"
She was a lawyer, he recalled. Maybe she'd found out something about this hotel. It couldn't be legal, holding people here like this.
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"Well. It just goes through to the front desk. Some help that is. The guy in charge is a total loon, as far as I can tell." He shook his head. "I didn't even mean to be here -- I..." He cut himself of abruptly with another shake of his head. He couldn't explain what had happened exactly and he didn't want to try once again.
"They're apparently not letting anyone leave. I don't know what's going on in this place, if there's some reason it's... been put in isolation or something... They don't want something getting out, that much is clear." He shook his head angrily. "I'm gonna get to the bottom of this soon ( ... )
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