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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.

Dec. 6th, 2013 05:41 pm
haolehothead: (frustrated: by ?)
[personal profile] haolehothead

Steve thinks Danny's just fallen to a sarin attack. Danny knows he's recently been shot by a madman in the woods. Somehow, it always comes back to someone getting hurt.

Rated: PG-13
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[personal profile] concierge
A large, decorative sign situated prominantly in the lobby reads:

The Nexus Hotel
proudly presents its

Formal Reception
Nexus Dining Hall
6 PM - Midnight

Monster Mixer
Nexus Basement
8 PM - 2 AM

Masquerade attire recommended for all guests

Most of the chairs have been removed from the Dining Hall to allow for ballroom-style dancing to the orchestra set up on the far end of the room. A polished cherry wood open bar is aligned along one wall. The adjacent Bistro is open for the duration of the formal reception, serving gourmet hors d'oeuvres.

Downstairs, the basement's largest storeroom has been converted into a spooky nightclub, complete with DJ, dance floor and cocktails.

Sep. 11th, 2013 01:30 pm
the_watchtower: ([Fortune] Madonna)
[personal profile] the_watchtower
Chloe has been through some weird shit in the past several years. She's basically got a mark on her forehead that says, "Need a hostage? I'm available!" but she guesses that's mostly because of Clark Kent and not necessarily because of her.

This takes the cake. She woke up this morning in a really bad knockoff of Madonna's "Like A Virgin" get up and between the splitting headache and the memory loss, she's not really sure how she tumbled out of a closet and into the hallway of a hotel. She doesn't even know which hotel it is, except it's not Vegas or Metropolis or any other place she's ever been before in her life. It's sure as heck not Kansas anymore but where it is? She has no idea.

So she's screwed. More or less.

She wanders down the hallway and ends up finding the front desk, at least, so that's an improvement on her current situation. Not that it tells her much. There's a key for her and a room assignment and some instructions about the amenities and Chloe tunes it all out. She needs to know what the hell happened to her that she's got a big, black spot for the last 12-24 hours and she needs to find Clark and Lois or someone who was with her so she can start piecing things together again.

She guesses a regular person wouldn't care so much that they blacked out drunk but Chloe isn't a regular person. Her memory lapses tend to be the result of some catastrophic event on a global scale (well, maybe not exactly but they coincide) and she'd like to know that Metropolis isn't in a crater and looking suspiciously like the aliens won in Independence Day.

So she decides to go back to where it all started. She's in the hallway tugging at the door she tumbled out of, feet braced against it so she can pull at the handle with all the power that her five foot five can manage. It's not a lot.

"Oh my God, Clark? Could you please show up any time now?"
haolehothead: (sunny days: by ?)
[personal profile] haolehothead
See, this is what Danny gets for not looking up. This is what happens when he's so preoccupied with not making a hundred tiny little typing errors on his incredibly tiny phone. Instead of showing up at headquarters like he's supposed to, he wanders through a door and ends up standing in a hotel lobby that looks vaguely familiar. That'd been about a week ago and now Danny's been wandering the grounds with his phone in hand.

And yeah, see, the whole 'no signal' thing makes sense given that he comes outside every day and stares at the floating rocks in space. Danny's obviously going to have to redefine his concept of 'making sense' because he's in a hotel in space and it's not the first time, but at least he hasn't been shot this time. Even though it's been a week, that doesn't stop Danny from wandering around the grounds, jabbing at the phone with his fingers as if he'll manage to get a signal and try to get Google Map directions from Chin as to which door is going to open up and bring him home instead of continuously showing him to a hotel bedroom that looks more Tarzan than it does actual hotel room.

"Hey!" he calls, when he sees someone walking through the gardens, cautious to stay away from the hedge maze (he has read Harry Potter thanks to Grace about a dozen times, he knows what goes down in those things). "Hey, you know anything about technology? Cuz me, me, I don't, I'm terrible with it, but what do you say you help a guy out, huh?" he asks, with his best smile.
digyourman: (008)
[personal profile] digyourman
It was a tenuous acceptance, being in this place.

mild spoilers )

A city boy all his life, Larry knew shit about plants. His mother had kept some sort of vine perched in a faded red pot on her kitchen windowsill, and that was where his expertise stopped. He'd never even been to the conservatory in Central Park. Yet when he'd visited the hotel offices and looked at the list of available jobs, his eye had kept jumping back to the landscaping crew. It felt wrong, somehow, to choose something that kept him inside all day, and his hands needed something to do. Not a distraction, a benediction.

That's how Larry Underwood, New York City born and bred, more accustomed to concrete than compost, was now outside beneath a blue sky with dirt caked under his fingernails and the sun at his back, packing soil around lavender plants in an English garden. Somewhere, Larry knew, the Judge approved.


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