all_inclusive | Entries tagged with zz: connor walsh

Kieren sets aside another black-bloody-stained handkerchief into a growing pile, staring at them in dismay. He'd encouraged Simon to go out for the day, giving Kieren the opportunity to make his escape to the Nexus. He's even half there, got the door propped open and the front desk in sight through the doorframe, but Kieren is busy wandering through Amy's bungalow looking for some neurotriptalyne that he can take without Simon noticing that Kieren's bogarting the supply and not his NT-Plus.

It'd be easier, of course, if he didn't have to keep stopping every few minutes to stop the black sludge coming from his nose with his shaking hand. The shaking has been happening for months, ever since the ... the thing he doesn't like to think about, but he'd dismissed it. Dr. Russo had always said that the drug's job was to reforge connections, so maybe this is just one more.

The bloody nose, though, is a worry.

He doesn't feel like he's about to go rabid. This isn't like when Gary had forced the Blue Oblivion on him, but it's something scarier -- something he can't even explain. When the tissue in his hand grows too bloody to use, he finds another one and tips his head back like this is just a case of a bad bloody nose. He might even be able to live with that, but the strangest thing happens.

From the hotel, there's a rush of warm air like the heaters are kicking in and Kieren feels it. His dead skin, his dead system, picks up on this gust of air.

What the hell is happening to him? Maybe it's about time he goes to the clinic, though without Dr. Russo there anymore, he's not sure he trusts anyone. Maybe Shirley Wilson? Kieren's sort of running out of options, but he knows this -- he's definitely not worrying Simon with this, not until it's necessary. Staring at the still open door to the Nexus, he remembers what he's meaning to do, though it's a bit harder now that he's sat in front of it tending to his bloody nose and his shaking hands.

"If anyone's there," he offers warily, on the off chance he doesn't have to get up. "Maybe you could close up from your end? I've run into a bit of ... difficulty."

The annual Nexus New Year's Eve gala began at 8 in the evening. Too grand to be contained by the lobby or dining hall, the gardens at the front of the hotel were employed, with long strings of white lights forming a twinkling canopy from the front doors all the way to the hedge maze. The weather was temperate and calm, and the night perfectly clear.

Drinks were served at various bars set up throughout the gardens and lobby, with champagne cocktails being the specialty of the night. Wheeling through the crowd was a bartender with golden cart providing warm drinks on the go: Tom and Jerrys, rum punch, negus, and Irish coffee.

Crisply-dressed wait staff wove through the collected guests with an abundance of hors d'oeuvres for all different tastes. The Bistro remained open with a limited selection of items for those who were wanting something more substantial.

Above the front doors was hung a large, gold-rimmed clock counting down the last hours, minutes, and seconds of the current year.

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I am more than these bones

cuz you've got a guilty, filthy soul

Gathering: New Year's Eve Gala

...at the stroke of twelve

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