Gathering: New Guest Reception

[concierge]

The black sign positioned in front of the Dining Hall's main entrance reads:

New Guest Reception
TODAY
6 PM - 8 PM

All guests welcome

In the Dining Hall itself, the chairs have been pushed up against the walls and the long dining table turned into a buffet stocked with finger foods. At the far end of the room is a small bar serving beer, standard cocktails and non-alcoholic drinks.

Comments

[hearnospeakno]

Nick frowns at the guy double-dipping before he takes in his whole...his everything. He's not exactly proud of the suspicious twist in his gut, but that doesn't mean he trusts it any less.

He thinks of rats, rats and crows and things in the corn.

So he shakes his head, pointing at the dip bowl, and the absurdity isn't lost on him.

[dogchasingcars]

"Mmmmm," you croon, licking the tips of your fingers messily. "Tasty."

Catching a young man's disapproving look, you quirk an eyebrow. "What?" you ask innocently, punctuating the question with a demure shrug.

[hearnospeakno]

Nick tells himself that maybe the guy's just odd. People go strange in their own way, don't they?

Sure. Like Harold goddamn Lauder. You bet, Nick.

You'll make people sick. He writes, after snapping open his notebook. Get your own bowl if you want to do that.

[dogchasingcars]

A mute, how quaint. You've been around a lot of different birds with lots of different feathers, but never a mute before. It's almost...warm and fuzzy and appealing. Someone who can't actually talk back. You like that.

"People are, ha ha, already sick," you inform the boy with a pointed look. "You the health inspector, sonny boy?"

Wiping your hands on the sides of your pants, you then turn around, offering yourself up for the apparent inspection.

[hearnospeakno]

It's hard for Nick to make out what the man is saying, underneath all the scarring and make-up. The make-up is the real catch. Most of reading lips is inference--'lavender soap' and 'there's hope' look the same, so you have to make judgment calls.

In this case: Nick can tell when someone's in on a joke he's not invited into. It's a tired feeling, and an old one.

He shakes his head at the joke-man's offer of inspection, resisting the urge to step back, and writes: Just stop.

[dogchasingcars]

When the boy doesn't seem too interested in your display, you abruptly stop. Mouth pulling down in a frown, you offer, "Guess not."

You rock back and forth on your heels for a moment, looking the boy over. He looks young, maybe younger than he actually is. Somehow, you suspect, he has quite the story to tell. You like story time.

"So, uh," you say, rubbing at the back of your neck, "what's your story, morning glory?"

[hearnospeakno]

There's a stubborn spike in Nick's spine that tells him not to tell this guy a thing, and Nick almost doesn't.

But is he really going to be an asshole just because this guy gives him the creeps? The worst things he's done are be hard to understand, dressing like a freak, and double-dipping a chip. And he did stop, even if it's only a break in the action.

I'm Nick. Don't have much of a story. Didn't survive the end of the world. It's hard for me to understand you. I'm deaf. He figures Mr. Clown won't need it spelled out for him why understanding is hard.

He knows he'll regret this, but he tears a blank sheet out of his notebook, pulls a spare pen from his jacket, and offers both to the stranger.

[dogchasingcars]

End of the world. The words are like music to your ears, the sweetest symphony Mozart or Rachmaninoff or Schubert had ever composed.

You almost greedily take the pen and paper from this Nick. Almost immediately, ink begins to spread about on paper as you sketch the Earth being blown up. Beneath it, you write, Am I close?

[hearnospeakno]

Nick nearly rubs his fingers on his jacket when Mr. Clown snatches at the writing utensils; he does flinch back, however slightly.

He shakes his head at the picture, visibly disturbed by the glee this man takes in it. (Explosions are a sore spot, like the bloody hollow of a knocked out tooth.)

People got sick and died. Almost everyone. He doesn't write down what happened to him, and he decides he's not going to. He could do without a cartoon drawn about it.

[dogchasingcars]

Intriguing.

Cocking your head, you give this Nick a pointed look.

Yet you survived, you scrawl. Impressive.

The boy doesn't look like much, and yet he overcame an apparent world-wide catastrophe. That counts for something. What, you're not sure yet, but you suspect this one is much more than meets the eye. Fortunately, you have two of those (unless you get bored one day and decide to take one from a fellow hotel-goer), so you decide it might be good to keep close watch on this one.

[hearnospeakno]

Lucky. Nick shrugs, his dismissiveness of the whole thing a little too tense. He doesn't like being looked at that way; part of it is being used to invisibility, but that hasn't been true for a while, has it?

This man might be (must be) crazy, but there's a sharp, crackling insight in the way he looks at Nick. He just doesn't know what's being seen.

And what's your story? He might as well ask. Fair is fair.