( AN OPEN POST #2 )

[charmlessness]

 
 
 

you know the drill. pick your poison (not entirely limited to those listed). reply with a prompt in the form of a post, photo, song, text, voicemail, whatever your heart desires & receive a response. simple, right? right.

 
 
 

Comments

[prescription]

[ Her answer doesn't seem out of place. This isn't the goddamn Ritz Carlton — the staff's about as incompetent as they come. Still, it isn't a misguided paranoia. When you lead a life like the Gecko brothers, you have to be on your guard at all possible times. If you feel eyes on you, there are. If you see something in the corner of your vision, there is.

There's no shortage of trouble they're into. Bad blood is sure to find them, one way or the other.

It's hesitant, but Richie's arm lowers, and he places the gun back to safety. ]

Four Rooms.

[ Judging by her expression, she hasn't seen it. Richie walks to the bedside, eyes narrowing at the sight of the open drawer. Another armed pistol resides alongside the obligatory Holy Bible. He closes it. ]

Robert Rodriguez? Quentin Tarantino? Tim Roth, he's the bellhop at this hotel — the Hotel Mon Signor? He keeps getting caught up in all these — strange happenings in all the other rooms. In this one room, David Proval, he's got his wife at gunpoint. Wants her to admit she's having an affair.

[ He inclines his head, lips turning down in something like a frown. ]

Turns out, it was just some fantasy scenario to improve their sex life.

[ Richie nods at her. ]

—What's your name?

[shesimmune]

( Oh, Lydia's brain is currently screaming at her to do something about this.

If the room wasn't already sweltering due to the temperature outside, she's sure that she'd start steaming in anger. Her jaw clenches and unclenches while she stares at him in silence as he explains the plot to some movie that she's never even heard of, let alone wanted to reenact with a real gun pointed in her direction all because the receptionist at the front desk screwed up.

This guy's gotta be different, and not in a way that she's prepared to deal with. If only her legs would remember how to move so that she could get out of here, as it appears that she's now frozen in fear.

She never thought she'd see the day that she'd take supernatural danger over everything else, but at least she (sometimes) knows how to deal with that. This? Bullets, troubled men that she can only assume to be criminals? Not exactly within her area of expertise.

He lowers his gun after what feels like a lifetime, and she takes a slow, deep breath to steady herself. Scared out of her mind or not, Lydia Martin refuses to whimper in front of anybody. )

Lydia.

( It's short, to the point.

If he thinks he's going to be getting anything else after that, then he really is out of his damn mind. )

[prescription]

You shouldn't look so freaked out, you know.

[ it's less than comforting, but richie wouldn't know how to do the thing if he tried. the basis of connection is often successful based on how comfortable one is with another. considering he's not only held his gun in her direction, but questioned her intentions before ever introducing himself? well, it doesn't take a psychologist to see he'd made a mistake.

still, this doesn't concern him. in fact, the only bother, at this point, is the mishap at the front desk. sure, he hadn't given his actual name, but you didn't miss a thing like "walter kissinger." ]

If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead.

[ richie buttons his sleeve at his elbow, echoing the motion at his other arm. he doesn't have a habit of murdering young girls, and if he did, he'd at least need a reason. the gun was meant for a threat; if this — lydia had any intention of hurting him, that look in her eyes would have long since disappeared. ]

Besides, the gun's not for pretty girls. [ he grins. the intent isn't as serious as its execution. ] It's for hotel lobbyists who don't know how to do their goddamn jobs.

[ he can hear seth's shut up, richard from miles away. ]

Forget it. Bad joke.