Stray Sheep Brooks

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She Probably Works Here

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monstersandmotels:

Fuckin’ hell, this was just getting weirder and weirder. Trying to keep up with the big picture was making Ingrid’s head hurt, so instead she focused on the little details. Like the guy’s ‘phone’.

“Dude…” She said, fishing her own pager out of her pocket and holding it next to his. This was unbelievable. “…How come yours has got more buttons than mine?”

Ingrid still wasn’t sure if she believed any of this. Maybe she should just ditch him? He could be a conman, or… drunk, or something. He hadn’t even given her his name, which didn’t bode well. But fuck it, he seemed to be having just as weird of a morning as she was so she might as well– wait, what did he just ask her?

“Why are you asking me that, McFly? I was following you!”

She groaned. “Okay, fine, it might not even work, but do you have any other goddamn ideas?!”

“McFly!? ... ... Oh shit, right!” Vincent took a deep breath. Dammit, he should have remembered to say his name already! “I’m Vincent. Vincent Brooks.” Right, okay. Bus-stop. Should be a right here, and yeah, this was looking familiar by now.

Ingrid had groaned. Out loud. Geeze, so he was a little confused! Vincent mumbled in vague annoyance. And another thing... what did she even mean? “Look, I don’t even know why you wanna get the bus! Damn hotel seemed fine...”

[shotgunround-blog]

Italian stallion rider equipments since 2009 | CLOSED

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

shotgunround:

What’s it matter? Man this guy was dumb! It’s obvious that if it was a trap, they had to go in there and beat the people up! At least, that’s really the only option they have unless they want to just sit out there all day.

“Clearly we gotta go in there and overpower them! Got any combat experience?”

“N-no I don’t...” this guy was getting weirder and weirder by the second. Vincent needed a way to get rid of him. “Okay, look. How about you uh, charge on ahead and I’ll foll...” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right behind you, right?”

Vincent hoped he’d take the... hell, was this even advanced enough to be called bait? “So... charge in!” He hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

She Probably Works Here

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

monstersandmotels:

What kind of fucking stupid question was that?

“Uh, what? No. Are you?” Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh, but felt pretty bad about doing so. The dude’s gear was dated. Like, literally. His jacket said ‘2009′ on it. And he’d asked with such a serious expression on his face… Maybe he’d just come out of a nine-year coma? “I just live out in the country.”

She didn’t feel like telling him she was from Australia. His accent was probably from America, but that didn’t mean that’s where she was now. He could be a tourist. Although the trees here weren’t very eucalyptus-y, and the buildings were all retro, and the cars… were…

Ingrid stopped walking. “…Wait.”

“Oh. Oh my God. I thought this was just a really sh– cruddy town. Are you a time-traveller? Are we in the sixties?”

“L-look! I don’t really know, okay?” Vincent rummaged in his jacket-pocket “But look what happened to my phone!” It was a simple pager with a QWERTY keyboard. It might not be a phone, but his damn phone was gone, and instead he had this dumb thing, (and a photo album).

“And like, the town looks like it’s stuck in the damn 80s, right?” Vincent posed it as a question, hoping that he could validate this crazy hunch. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. “I mean, the cars and everything, right?”

“I’m not a time-traveller but... god this is insane!” He felt like punching something. “...a-are we still going to the bus-stop?”

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

She Probably Works Here

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

monstersandmotels:

Oh my God, was this guy serious? With the muttering? She was standing right next to him. “Dude… If you wanna ask me something, maybe, like… actually ask me…?”

Despite her better judgement, she followed after him. Maybe something about this conversation was still salvageable. “…I’m Ingrid.” She said. “I don’t live in this town. And I don’t have a car anymore, and I don’t feel like walking, and it’s been a fu– a friggin’ weird day. So… bus stop. Okay?”

Was that oversharing? It felt like oversharing. But maybe it’d stop a couple of questions from coming out that she really didn’t feel like answering.

Ingrid, huh? Probably better than having another _atherine... complicated enough with two... Still, it was a left here for the bus-stop, right? Sure, probably... though Vincent got the feeling he’d be in hot water with Ingrid if he was wrong. But for now, she’d said something... odd.

“Hey, when you said you’re not from town...” Vincent hoped he was right about this “did you uh, mean from a different year too? Uhah...” he trailed off into nervous laughter. This felt like a fucking stupid question.

[shotgunround-blog]

Italian stallion rider equipments since 2009 | CLOSED

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

shotgunround:

This was getting frustrating! This guy kept going from angry to scared! “Geez, make up your mind! Are you angry or scared?!” He made a motion with his hands. “Whatever! There’s a weird hotel here and I think we’re supposed to go in!”

“But it’s totally a trap!” At least, he thinks so.

M-make up his mind? Hell, it wasn’t his fault this other guy was so full-on. “I, uh... y-yo-” Great, back to being nervous. Vincent thought he should just calm down, avoid the extremes and shit...

“Okay, fine. Sorry.” Vincent sighed... this sure was one hell of a day. “Even if it is a trap, what’s it matter?” Surely if the Hotel was in on something, the rest of the town would be too... at least the weird way Vincent had arrived had made him think so.

[shotgunround-blog]

Italian stallion rider equipments since 2009 | CLOSED

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

shotgunround:

Kittan crossed his arms. He got why the guy was so mad, but honestly there were more pressing matters to worry about! Like where the hell they were!

“There’s bigger fish to fry right now, scruffy! Like how we got here! Clearly you didn’t do it!” He slammed his fist on a light post.”So who the hell did!!”

“H-hey!” Great, first few minutes of coherent thought in town and Vincent was already on the defensive. Like hell he was! “Of course I didn’t do it! You’re only just working that out now?!” It felt good to yell at someone, like he was finally in control of something. “You- you! I...”

Suddenly it stopped feeling good, when Vincent remembered how easily this guy had socked him... “I, uh... shit!”

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

She Probably Works Here

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

monstersandmotels:

Ingrid was just on her way out of the hotel when she bumped into some fucker with a sad look about him and an even sadder afro. She was already not in a good mood, and being roped into a conversation with a customer was just the icing on the cake.

“I’m busy.”

…Wait. No. Not a customer. This wasn’t her job. Goddamn it.

“Uh. I meant- do I look like I work here?” Smooth. Well. Smoother than admitting even she had thought so at first. “Outta my way. Unless you’ve got a car. Or know where the bus stop is.”

“H-hey, c’mon...” It was a far gruffer response than Vincent had been expecting. Shit, he’d only made one wrong assumption. Between this and the punch before (and hell, the whole ‘waking up in a mystery town’), this didn’t seem to be a good day... “Okay fine... I’m sorry!”

“I’m uh... I’m pretty sure I remember where the bus-stop was.” Vincent figured he might as well help out this chick. He had annoyed her (somehow), and it’s not like he had much better to do at this point. Already heading for the Hotel’s exit, he wondered what she even wanted to go for...

“Who is this chick anyway?” he muttered.

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

She Probably Works Here

Vincent walked into the main reception of the Trout Hotel, getting about the level of polish and shine the exterior suggested. (That is to say, not much at all...) “Geeze, this place is rough.”

He would ask about where his room was at the front desk, but there was a surprisingly long line there already. But then he saw a woman come down the stairs that seemed to exude an aura of... hell yeah, I work at a hotel. Pushing through part of the crowd to reach her, Vincent called out.

“Hey! You uh, work here, right?”

[shotgunround-blog]

Italian stallion rider equipments since 2009 | CLOSED

[stray-sheep-brooks-blog]

stray-sheep-brooks:

shotgunround:

The guy seemed totally clueless, but Kittan wasn’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “Don’t play dumb! Yer the jackass who brought me here right?!” Though now that he says it outloud, this guy… doesn’t look like he’d be capable of hurting a fly, let alone a human being.

“Who the hell am I kidding. You didn’t do this shit, did ya…?” He sighed, exhausted for even putting the energy into this guy. “Sorry about the punch!” He popped out of his exhaustion, suddenly full of energy.

“Name’s Kittan! Kittan Bachika!”

“S-sorry about the punch?! C’mon!” It seemed a tad unfair to brush it aside that easily... still, he had sorta been doing that on his own? Getting punched by this guy was a trip.

Unable to keep the confusion off his face, Vincent was at least glad that this guy had calmed down. Suddenly, but still. This guy was cheerful, eager even. Nice of him to introduce himself, Vincent supposed. “Oh uh, Vincent Brooks”

“So, I-- wait, you thought I did this!?” Vincent figured he know about as much as Kittan. “Just... ” don’t jump to conclusions so much. Honestly.

[shotgunround-blog]

Italian stallion rider equipments since 2009 | CLOSED

@stray-sheep-brooks​

For a long 20 minutes, Kittan paced outside of the hotel, waiting for someone, anyone, to show up and explain! Someone wanted him to be here, and whoever that is, they’re gonna get a whole face full of blonde rage!

Finally, another cab arrived, where a thin and tired male came stumbling out. He looked confused, and maybe a little bit panicked, but that didn’t matter to Kittan.

“Hey! You!”

Without even a warning, Kittan came runing over to the poor man and belted him square in the face.

“What THE HELL?!”

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Normally one would expect the strange new town to be the most surprising thing of the day. But punches... man could they hurt. “W-whadda ya mean what the hell?! I should be asking you!”

Vincent sighed, rubbing his face where he’d been hit. He’d somehow managed to avoid falling over... “Look, buddy... I uh...” A pause, he seemed to be taking this ‘getting punched’ thing rather well. He was probably still too groggy to care. (Had the punch woken him up? Hard to tell.)

“... ow.”

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.    .    .    .    .    ugh

Vincent barely absorbs anything much of anything around him, at first. Probably still tried or something...  ugghhh, it’s early, he groggily thought. That’d make sense, with the nightmares. He must have woken up, before he should.

“. . . -se where it don’t belong, y’ hear?” said the cabbie. Vincent responded with a vague, “Sure” . . . wait a second.

Where the hell was he? Shit! What the hell? Looking around wildly, Vincent noticed, belatedly, the hotel in front of him, the cab rounding the corner, the goddamned snow everywhere? It bared repeating, where the hell was he?!

Dreaming still, he hoped.