Comments | plentyofroom: When Paranoia Comes in the Door

torchwood_doc in plentyofroom

When Paranoia Comes in the Door

Jul 05, 2011 08:36

Who: Owen Harper and anyone who's around
When: Evening
Where: The hallways
What: Testing out the Hotel to see what it has in mind.

( everything else goes out the window )

place: hallways, *complete, post: open, character: bobby singer

Comments 21

junkyardgrouch July 7 2011, 01:04:21 UTC

It wasn't like Bobby to wander. As a general rule, he knew where he was going and he made the most efficient work of getting there. No dawdling. The hotel, though... it had other ideas for him.

All it took was a split-second's distraction and suddenly he was in an unfamiliar hallway with no real notion of how to get back on track. Retracing his steps only served to move him in circles and further confuse and frustrate him.

By the time he turned the corner and tromped down the hallway Owen occupied, he was muttering a litany of curses under his breath in every language... alive or dead... that he knew. Friggin' hotel.

torchwood_doc July 7 2011, 20:25:08 UTC

A muffled collection of unfamiliar words that clearly came under the collective umbrella of swearing, made Owen look away from the door he was concentrating on.

He didn't know the man who was heading in his direction, not that it was a surprise, he'd been in self imposed isolation lately and it was unlikely that the Hotel had simply stopped collecting just because he wasn't taking any notice.

"You can say that again," he replied, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets.

junkyardgrouch July 8 2011, 16:23:07 UTC

The unfamiliar voice stopped him short. Bobby blinked at the man and then huffed a short, irritated laugh. "I could. I may yet. Every time... every damn time I leave my room, I get turned around at least once. Feel like I ought'a send up smoke signals or something."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "Name's Robert Singer. Bobby to most."

torchwood_doc July 9 2011, 01:55:48 UTC

"Owen Harper," he replied, nodding briefly as he did so. "You get used to it," he said, his tone wearily accepting of what usually happened. "Well, most of the time. Ever so often you start howling at the moon- or anything else that's nearer at the time."

Sighing, he glanced at the other man, if all the swearing in foreign languages was anything to go by, he wasn't quite what he seemed. "You looking for anywhere in particular?" He enquired.

Thread 21