staring at strangers | closed - mikan + cyril
As the hotel elevator rises to the 4th floor, she wonders for the 5th time if it really was a good idea to visit her room. At first, the girl had planned on avoiding it, the thought of meeting her roommate filling her with dread, but walking around the unfamilar park seemed rather…unsafe, even more so because she didn’t know her way around yet. Besides, she knew that her roommate wasn’t going to like her - that was a given - but she hoped that they would at least put up with her…
Once the elevator reaches the fourth floor and opens its doors, Tsumiki walks out of it and into the square room filled with shelves of items, quickly noticing the big pot in the middle and the a man standing to the side. Was this all there was in the room…? Had she pressed the wrong button in the elevator, maybe? She would have thought that there would be rooms, with how large the hotel looks on the outside…Tsumiki knew that asking the guy about it would probably be a good choice so, after a few minutes of getting herself together and thinking of what to say, she put a hopefully friendly-looking smile and slowly walked over to him, opening her mouth to speak when she got close enough.
“A…Ah, excuse me, mister…do you know where the rooms are?”
When Cyril had first entered the small room, what hit him first was disbelief. As if the amusement park wasn't a joke enough, now he was forced into a small brick stoned room in which a literal witches cauldron was placed. Perhaps it was foolish of him to expect a reasonable hotel, in a completely unreasonable, ridiculous unfathomable environment.
A begrudged face plastered stuck on his face, he makes his way to inspect the table, looking through the annoyingly long list of instructions. Cyril lets out a pitiful small laugh--it was a relatively simple task for him, just put certain potions in the mix. He gruffed.
Really. A complete, utter waste of time.
Whilst fiddling with an odd bottle filled with a suspicious purple liquid the mercenary's attention was suddenly drawn towards the elevator. It opened slowly, then revealed a girl--unfamiliar, naturally. It wasn't like Melbourne, where Cyril had come to recognize almost eery female in his general direction. This 'eternal' amusement was foreign and unknown to him. For now, anyway.
She walked towards him as if he was stricken with the plague--Cyril quickly noticed beads of nervous sweat to go along with a just as nervous smile. A high schooler, most likely.
He greets the girl with a less welcoming grin, pale hands moving to his hips as he looked down on her.
"You've already made it, dolly. Or at least, halfway I'm assuming."
"According to this list," He says, walking forward with said list in hand. "We'll have to concoct a potion to get us out of here."
