Haunted Hotel

He nodded silently, processing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Larry decided that he disliked this girl, that she had the choice he longed for, and she was throwing it away. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask,” he offered.
 
Chris looked up as Grisham entered the hotel. "The usual room?" He asked, tone bored. He was already reaching for the key. They didn't deal in money here, rather in favors and useful items. "Dinner is served promptly at six," he recited in monotone. "Breakfast at 8 and lunch is whenever." Not that the times mattered, there was no time in this very strange place.

The doors of the hotel opened again and in walked a young woman. Long blonde hair, statesque shape, dark eyes flitting across the room. She waited just inside the door, seeming to be waiting for something or someone.
 
Larry glances up again at the growing activity. This was more similar to the hotel he was used to. But activity wasn’t particularly a good thing. He’d be perfectly happy if he never saw another inhuman creature.
 
Not far behind the newly arrived, green-eyed blonde was this shambling mound of suitcases.

Not really. There was an actual man behind that stack of luggage, and even though most mere mortals would struggle with that weight, the biggest problem for him was A: Seeing where he was going, and B: Getting through the door without dropping all of that travel ware, gift bags, and other miscellaneous knickknacks that were along for the ride. The gentleman of imposing stature stopped on the stoop to turn partway about. He eyeballed the threshold, and naturally, the leggy blonde that waited so patiently in the doorway. “You would think a hotel would have a luggage cart,” he remarked, his deep baritone voice colored with a deep-south drawl.

He did manage to maneuver himself and his burden into the lobby, and without a great deal of difficulty.
 
"Well, if you had let me help carry things in a luggage cart wouldn't be necessary," but she was smiling... and absolutely agreed that a luggage cart would be useful. A moment after the imposing stack of luggage and the person carrying them made it passed the door a large, lumbering man wandered over and stuck out his arms for the luggage. Just a grunt, no words.

"Remind me, why this hotel?" She stood nearby, just in case something should fall.

The teenager at the front desk sighed and closed the magazine. He preferred when there weren't any customers, but it was his job. "One room or two?" he asked in his droning monotone.
 
“Now, I don't want you to hurt y'self. My heart couldn't bear the strain,” replied the suitcases – er, the man behind the suitcases. He offloaded the luggage to the conveniently convenient Lurchenstein Monster. “The brochure mentioned something about grave-like silence, unusual scenery, and steep discounts for couples,” he said, as he reached about to pluck his wallet from the inside of his jacket. He'll tuck a more than adequate tip into Big McLargeHuge's lapel before the doorman can shamble away. He looked about, taking note of the resident spirit, the wandering teenager, and the middle aged man before sweeping a hard glance to the concierge in bad need of some Proactiv Solution. “There should be a reservation for a suite on the books, son. Gallowglas.” Mr. Gallowglas dusted off his hands, and then moved to loom behind the pretty, petite blonde, though his gaze settled on Pugsley-behind-the-counter.
 
Abby would roll her eyes, but it was all a show. She thought he was sweet, even if she'd been okay to carry a bag or two.

Chris sighed, long and hard, and pulled at the reservation book, flipping through the pages. He reminded Abby of the sloth from that zootopia movie she'd taken her cousin's kid to watch. While he took his sweet time looking up their reservation, she looked around offering a smile for anyone who happened to meet her eyes. This could be fun.
 
Larry had been watching the pair, but his eyes flicked away from Abby’s after a moment of contact. He wasn’t a particularly brave individual, and didn’t like the thought of being caught staring. Worse than that, though, was this new man’s gaze. Larry wasn’t sure why it made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to stay and find out.
 
The grey haired man would nod and take his key from the teenager behind the counter after a nod to confirm the answer to his question. The room he'd always take wasn't big, as he wasn't s fan of confined spaces and didn't spend more than a couple of hours in it every time he travelled. He'd put the key in his pocket and then look at the couple that came up behind him. A couple of seemingly posh, keeping in mind everyone that carried more than a bag of luggage and wasn't moving dimensions was considered posh in his entitled opinion, people. They were most likely a couple.

While clearly looking at them, his eyes met the lady's. He didn't know what reality she came from, but she seemed human enough that he'd offer a grin back back to her. As well as a hand to shake. "Name's Gather Rain In Shallow Hiccups After Mourning, or GRISHAM. May I know yours?"
 
Hm. Odd boy. She shrugged a shoulder and turned her attention to the man before her. The lady would extend her hand to shake his proffered one. "I'm Abby and this," her free hand found the arm of the man, "is my husband," the emphasis was for no other reason than the fact that getting to say that still made her light up, "Rod."

"One reservation for one room a Mr. and Mrs. Gallowglas." Siigh. The key would be handed over to the looming man as he went through the spiel of meal times.
 
Humans. More humans. If they had the choice not to be here, not to be a part of this, why were they here? Really, it was the one scenario where he'd be bolder than he liked to be. If nothing else, maybe they'd respond better than that orphan girl had. Larry approached, trying to catch one of the couples' eyes. "Hi. Hello. Sorry to bother you, could I borrow a moment of your time?" he asked, leaving a good few feet of distance between them. Wouldn't be a good thing if someone turned suddenly and just happened to pass through his body. No, much better to let them leave without ever learning about the things mortals shouldn't know. "Excuse me?" he ventured again.
 
Rod, in the interim, reached over Abby while she was making nice. He plucked the key neatly from pizza-face with one hand, while his other arm was accosted by his far more social spouse. Icy blue eyes settled upon Grisham as introductions were exchanged. It was unnecessarily hard for the passing few seconds it took him to process the name, but it was lightened by the formation of a lopsided grin and a chuckle. “Mister Grisham,” said he, peppering the name with his deep, Gentlemen of Georgia drawl. His ham-sided hand was thrust out for a shake, too. “A man with a fascinating number of names.”

Casper – er, Larry /almost/ went unheeded. Roderick's ears were very, very sharp, though. The solid apparition's voice pushing across the boundary of the here and the hereafter caught the big fellow's attention. “Well, hello there, sir.” Sniff, sniff. ...Wait. Pimple boy there had a scent. Abby had a scent. The man-of-many names had a scent. Lurch had a scent. The teenager had a scent. ...Did Larry have a scent? Sniff, sniff.
 
Abby, too, turned to the spirit. She hadn't heard him, but Rod with the much better hearing. Oh, good. Rod could see this one. Smiling she tilted her head at the young man, "Hi!" She offered her hand to shake, as it seemed all the handshakes were going around. If he was dead (undead? She really wasn't sure about the nomenclature and Death certainly hadn't offered any assistance in that matter, or any matter), he likely could see all the other non-solid apparitions and she wouldn't be the only one.

Having done his job Chris went back to his magazine and Lurch lumbered off with the Gallowglas luggage once he knew where he was headed. "Hm. Maybe we should just shuffle this... meeting and introduction into the dining room?" At this point they were hogging the front desk and the teenager's irritation had not gone unnoticed.
 
Score! They were a couple. He also shook the man's hand. "Well... it really is just one name. GRISHAM is a shortening made out of the first letter of each word that composes my actual name. It so happens to be a human name or surname as well." He explained. "It doesn't always become a human like name, for example there's SUAWT, or FNUPL."
He would also acknowledge the ghost and say a short hi to the boy. The woman, Abby, made a very good point.
"Sounds like a good idea, Lets go~" If everyone agreed, he'd lead them towards the dining room.
 
"Hi, sorry." Larry continued pushing. Well, by his standards, pushing. "I really don't mean to be a bother, but do you two have a minute to talk? It's really a matter of some importance, I wouldn't be asking you otherwise." The ghost's eyes flicked from Abby's hand to GRISHAM's face, then away again. After a hesitation, a bit longer than normal, he glanced back to Abby. "Sorry, I'm, well, sick, I don't think you want to shake my hand at the moment." he lied. He'd used the excuse with nearly every human he'd come into contact to, for years. Intangibility was really rather annoying.
 
Sniff, sniff... sniiiiiiiffff. Rod squinted one eye. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, and it distinctly lacked an olfactory characterization. The Big, Bad Man leeeeeaaaaaned toward Larry. Loomed, really. He was really good at looming. “...What an interesting cologne you're not wearing, sir,” remarkethed Roderick, visage drawn to reflect some machination of pensive thought. Put bluntly, the hamster wheel was turning.

He withdrew before getting too uncomfortably close to the spectral solicitor, instead directing his attention to both his wife and the man of Acronym. “Heaven forbid one come up with the shortening of 'SNAFU', Mister Grisham,” for Mister Grisham is far easier for Rod to recollect and relate than simply articulating a shortened form without title, apparently. “Ah, yes. My darling wife, proprietor of ideas both fantastic and practical. Let us retreat to the dining room for a more comfortable venue.” And, to Larry, “Do join us, sir, so we all might converse on that which you deem urgent.”
 
Larry flinched back at the intruding figure and his intruding nose, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. “Yes, um, well, to the dining hall?” he suggested weakly. Talking in front of GRISHAM was not the plan, not at all. The hotel wasn’t busy, but the shape-changer was probably one of the more dangerous beings here at the moment. “May I ask why you’ve decided on this venue to stay a few nights? It’s just rather... It’s a niche market.” Larry decided on his words weakly. He wasn’t a conversationalist, but he still needed to get his point across, even with the new need for subtlety.
 
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