strangetrip | [EP/GP] Today is Check-In Day

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[EP/GP] Today is Check-In Day

When the fifteenth of the month came and went without any new arrivals, most people logically supposed that there would be no new arrivals that week, or that the pattern they believed they'd found was false after all.

Kitty Pryde, Caroline Forbes, and Phryne Fisher were decidedly not most people.

Between them, they agreed it would be best to keep a watch for a few days following the fifteenth, on the grounds that, often enough, holidays interrupted regular schedules, which would reassert themselves again at the next instance. If "keeping a watch" had required them to do anything out of the ordinary, they might have been somewhat less sanguine about it. Might have, as they were not, after all, most people. Yet since their routines, almost invariably, had them in public places, working and people-watching, it required no special effort on their part to be alert for new arrivals.

So it was that Phryne had taken up a table in the lobby cafe to read and hold court, while Kitty took an extra shift tending bar, and Caroline tidied up and labeled the boxes of decorations from Valentine's day "for next year's residents" on the morning of the sixteenth and again on the seventeenth--and not one of them were surprised when, in early afternoon, newcomers began to arrive.

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Ignis quirked a smile. He'd had his own difficulties adjusting to varying formality. King Regis had always been 'your Majesty' to his face and scarcely less formal out of it, but Ignis's attempts to remain formal with Noctis had... well, 'your Highness' had become simply 'Highness' had become an exasperated 'Noctis' and finally simply 'Noct'. "You'll get used to it. Most people here, I think, would be confused. I got out of the habit of using names at all for a time, when I was learning." If you didn't use a name or title, you couldn't use the wrong one.

The question of food occupied him then. Without a particular request he had leave to show off, but as he'd been told that only hunger had gotten Alcuin out of his room, something quick would be better. He fetched ingredients for an omelette (eggs, ham, cheese, and so on) and started slicing and mixing.

"I will try to remember," Alcuin said, though the idea of being inadvertently disrespectful to his betters made him quite nervous.

He was also concerned about being inadvertently disrespectful to the man in front of him, who was being so kind. He decided that the easiest thing to do would be to... well, to simply ask, and hope that it was not rude.

"Ignis, forgive me, but... can I help you with this task?" He had worked out by now that the man seemed to be blind. But very, very functional.

Ignis paused, partly to wonder why someone would need forgiving for that kind of question and partly out of surprise. Those who were inclined to cook already did it themselves, and those who weren't rarely asked to help. He would ordinarily have put the question down to pity and dismissed it pleasantly enough, but he'd heard pity many times before, and in Alcuin he heard only a genuine desire to help.

Perhaps he was simply a helpful sort. Either way, dismissal was a poor response to a genuine (and kind) offer. "If you like, certainly. If you'd rather simply rest and watch, of course, I'll take no offense. The cheese there," he pointed with the knife he'd been using to cube ham, "will need to be grated." Another point, slightly vaguer, indicated the grater. Someone with eyes, who could see when their fingers were about to be grated rather than just operating by feel, would be able to go faster.

Alcuin hopped off of the stool, eager to help. He was, after all, accustomed to serving, even if he had essentially no experience with cooking. He could do an impressive ritual tea service, however.

"I'm afraid I have very little experience with cooking," he confessed, slightly apologetic. "But I'm a quick learner."

He came over to where Ignis was standing, and looked down at the cheese. The device was unfamiliar to him, but it immediately made intuitive sense, and he picked it up to begin grating.

Ignis had to laugh, quietly. "My most frequent previous helper had little experience and absolutely no desire to learn whatsoever." For whatever reason, those particular memories of Noctis had less sting than the others. They were too small for it to reach, maybe. "I enjoy cooking, and if you've a mind to learn in general I would be happy to teach you." And not only for further opportunities to listen to Alcuin's voice, of course; as a matter of practicality, having more people capable of turning ingredients into food was a good idea.

"I like to be useful," said Alcuin with a little smile, and realized belatedly that Ignis could not see it. "And I like learning. And I..." He hesitated. "I do not quite know what I will do with myself here."

Smiles sounded in people's voices - he'd heard few enough of them, but they were nevertheless recognizable, and Ignis was pleased to hear one, even if he in fact had little to do with it. "I believe that's a common difficulty." Most of the residents didn't have skills that translated easily to living and working in a hotel. Boredom was going to become an issue in short order, if it wasn't already. "Depending on the skills you do have, you might have luck in finding some translation of them here."

He poured egg mixture into a pan over a burner (after testing the heat with one hand to make sure it was in fact turned on) and started gently pushing it around the edges with a spatula. "I believe others are passing time in the gardens or stables, if that appeals, as well."

The skills you do have. Alcuin thought about this for a moment. Spying. Languages. Dancing. Tumbling. Sex. Was there need for a Servant of Naamah here? He thought of asking Ignis explicitly, but something stopped him. Unsure about cultural norms? Afraid of judgment?

"I... am afraid I do not know anything about gardening either," he said. "And I ride, but I confess I did not care for the horses personally... there are horses here, though? I am glad to hear that." It sounded nice, going for a ride. A moment of escape, perhaps.

He moved the bowl of grated cheese closer to Ignis. "Will this do?"

"It should indeed." It wasn't difficult to smile at Alcuin; his apparent gentleness invited it. And from the sound he'd grated enough or more. And the egg mixture had firmed enough, so Ignis added the grated cheese and ham chunks to one side, then flipped the other side over it. As soon as the cheese melted, there would be omelet.

"I've heard there are horses. I haven't ventured out to visit them myself." He tapped the side of his shades in illustration of why. Riding a horse was no doubt similar to riding a chocobo, but for him either was as unreasonable as driving. Ignis also didn't miss that the other man hadn't mentioned what skills he had. But as beautiful as his voice was, it was also young; perhaps he simply didn't think he had any. "It might be a good idea to the Inn more thoroughly, just to see if anything seizes your interest, as well."

"Are there books here?" asked Alcuin, even as he watched everything that Ignis was doing, committing the steps to memory. Alcuin could read forever. And he might appreciate the escape from his own confusing reality at the moment.

"That, I definitely don't know." Ignis turned to fetch a plate and fork. Years of practice kept his tone even instead of bitter - he missed reading, yes, but it wasn't strictly required to be functional. "I'm nearly certain there isn't a library sort of area, but beyond that... I apologize."

Alcuin winced. "I'm sorry, that was rather insensitive." He bit his lip, and then added after a pause, "If it turns out there are books... I'd be happy to read to you in exchange for cooking lessons." Well, he'd be happy to read to him anyway. He couldn't imagine anything worse than not being able to read.

"Not at all." The dismissal of the apology was immediate and genuine. "I rather enjoy those sorts of slips. It's people talking to me, rather than my handicap, you see."

The omelet slid neatly out of the pan and onto the plate, which Ignis then offered to Alcuin along with the fork. The phrase that's a kind offer but almost escaped before he thought again. Alcuin had a lovely voice indeed, and listening to him read would give Ignis an entirely innocent excuse to enjoy it. As well, his immediate desire to be of help and of use... likely he'd enjoy the reading as much as Ignis enjoyed the cooking lessons. Hardly an unfair trade on either side. "I'd be happy to give you cooking lessons regardless, but if you're willing and it's possible, the reading would be quite pleasant."

It was such a small thing, and yet Alcuin felt so good about it. He really did like making other people happy.

"Good," he said, sounding pleased.

And then, after taking the plate of food - "Thank you," and brushed his lips to Ignis' cheek, before settling back onto one of the stools. D'Angelines were tactile, warm, and wouldn't occur to him that such casual touch might not have been well received.

...what? Ignis froze in something like shock for a second or two after those lips touched his cheek. It wasn't exactly intimate, nothing that should have thrown him, but... in general, people didn't touch him much. (Barring, of course, magic forcing them into it.) Touches to his arm or hand to guide him, whether or not he needed it, was the usual limit. Even before, he'd largely been excepted from the rough-housing affection-in-passing among his friends. His personality, he'd come to understand, simply didn't invite affection.

So a kiss without magical force behind it, even a brief and chaste one, was pure surprise. Pleasant, yes, but that didn't negate the seconds of confusion. He recovered, he thought, rather nicely. All things considered. "Ah... you're welcome. Any time."

Alcuin had not been looking at him while moving to sit again, and so did not notice his initial reaction.

"Will you join me?" he asked, looking up then. Hoping that Ignis didn't intend to simply leave him to his meal now. He wanted the company.

"I... certainly." Very well, perhaps Ignis was still somewhat unbalanced, but the casual request helped more than he expected. Apparently it was simply Alcuin's way, no doubt in time he would become less... demonstrative, as he met more people.

Until then, he was very pleasant company indeed. Ignis took a seat in what he judged was the seat next to Alcuin. "I've no other claims on my time."

Alcuin took a bite of the food in front of him, which was somewhat familiar and yet new at the same time. He immediately felt better, and even made a little "mmm" sound after he swallowed. "Merciful Elua I'm not even sure I realized how hungry I was. Thank you, Ignis."

"You're quite welcome." A significant part of why he enjoyed cooking was the enjoyment of others, after all. Ignis did not, however, miss the reference to 'Elua' - not a deity he knew, but it stood to reason that other worlds would have other gods, didn't it? "If you're still hungry once you've finished, let me know."

Alcuin ate for a moment, assuming that Ignis wouldn't mind the temporary silence. He realized that he'd been feeling low grade nausea ever since he'd arrived, and that perhaps it wasn't all emotional. He felt instantly slightly better.

"You're only the second person I've met here," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I appreciate the distraction as well as the food. Every moment I have where my thoughts can wander, they... wander to bad places."

"That, I certainly understand." He'd been doing much the same thing, for longer. Anything that kept him from dwelling on things which he could not have helped in any case, but stung harder because he was not there. "Where I came from was... not pleasant." And if that was the same as describing a tornado as 'rather breezy', he felt Alcuin might hear it.

Alcuin was almost relieved to hear that, that he wasn't the only one who might be... completely messed up.

"Do you think this is an afterlife?" he asked after a moment. "I had a hole from a sword through my stomach when I arrived."

"I... it's possible." A second of thought turned I don't think so into it's possible between one word and the next. Given how many powerful daemons had been converging on the Palace to stop Noctis... could he be sure that he hadn't simply been swarmed too quickly to know it? "A cruel one, if so, considering I know for a fact that one of my companions would have died just before or just after me, and he's not here. On the whole, I would rather think not."

Alcuin hesitated, partly because even thinking of Anafiel made him feel on the edge of breaking down into sobs. But he managed to say, his voice a bit shaky, "Same. I... someone died with me. I mean, if I... well. You see. I asked. He's not here."

"My condolences." Most people had left someone behind, but very few were dealing with leaving someone behind immediately before or after their deaths. After a bare second to consider, Ignis reached out a hand to - he hoped - rest briefly on the other man's arm. Sympathy via light physical contact.

If it was a bad idea, no doubt he'd find out in short order. "I never asked about mine. If he was here, I'd know. If any of them were."

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