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Mar. 1st, 2007 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyfirestarterMarch 1, 2007
11:30pm EST
It's raining hard as the cab from the airport pulls to a halt in front of the hotel on 61st Street. A cheerful recorded voice reminds Charlie to take all her belongings with her as she pays the cabbie and steps out onto the sidewalk, ducking hurriedly under the awning with its stylized logo of a leaping dolphin.
She's exhausted, between the flight and the keyed-up tension of the past several days and the lateness of the hour, but not too much to note small details of the small, smart lobby -- the revolving door, the overstuffed chairs, the mezzanine level visible from the front door, the elegant suit the woman behind the counter is wearing. All of it whispers this is the right place.
Her room's ready -- nonsmoking, yes, thank you. Room 1108. The coincidence isn't even unnerving anymore; it feels like a puzzle piece fitting neatly into place. Especially when she notices, idly, what 11 and 08 add up to.
She takes the keycard, thanks the receptionist again, heads for the elevator towing her wheeled suitcase. Checks her watch, in the elevator, and resigns herself to staying awake for at least another half-hour.
It's enough time to unpack, and to take a quick shower; she's sitting on the bed in her bathrobe, brushing her wet hair, when the closet door opens quietly. A distant-sounding babble of cheerful noise comes into the room, followed by a red-haired woman and a faint smell of something burning.
Charlie looks up at Fire, and smiles.
11:30pm EST
It's raining hard as the cab from the airport pulls to a halt in front of the hotel on 61st Street. A cheerful recorded voice reminds Charlie to take all her belongings with her as she pays the cabbie and steps out onto the sidewalk, ducking hurriedly under the awning with its stylized logo of a leaping dolphin.
She's exhausted, between the flight and the keyed-up tension of the past several days and the lateness of the hour, but not too much to note small details of the small, smart lobby -- the revolving door, the overstuffed chairs, the mezzanine level visible from the front door, the elegant suit the woman behind the counter is wearing. All of it whispers this is the right place.
Her room's ready -- nonsmoking, yes, thank you. Room 1108. The coincidence isn't even unnerving anymore; it feels like a puzzle piece fitting neatly into place. Especially when she notices, idly, what 11 and 08 add up to.
She takes the keycard, thanks the receptionist again, heads for the elevator towing her wheeled suitcase. Checks her watch, in the elevator, and resigns herself to staying awake for at least another half-hour.
It's enough time to unpack, and to take a quick shower; she's sitting on the bed in her bathrobe, brushing her wet hair, when the closet door opens quietly. A distant-sounding babble of cheerful noise comes into the room, followed by a red-haired woman and a faint smell of something burning.
Charlie looks up at Fire, and smiles.
