Note: Wrote this randomly before bed (that's when I do most of my writing or drawing, strangely). See if you can figure out what exactly is going on before I tell you ;P
Gah. I hope I kept them in character D:
Disclaimer: I do not own the Bartimaeus Trilogy; Jonathan Stroud does
Hotel Room
Bartimaeus collapsed back onto soft sheets with an exhausted sigh. He felt so tired that he didn't think his essence could take even a minute more of being on Earth. This was all Nathaniel's fault. Trust the idiot kid to give such and inappropriate order.
"Bartimaeus?"
He turned his head sharply away from the call, making Ptolemy's dark hair flop across his eyes. The boy was the last thing he wanted to look at right now.
"Oh, come on, you're not going to sulk at me?" Nathaniel said, raising his eyebrows and regarding the demon with mild annoyance. "I was sure you would be pretty used to tasks like that with your history."
Bartimaeus looked up and glared at the magician with such ferocity that he feared he would incinerate him. Well, he wouldn't have been able to even if he had wanted because of the kid's order to protect him, but it would have been damn funny to watch.
"And what exactly," growled the djinni. "Is that supposed to mean? Me: Bartimaeus of Uruk, N'gorso the Mighty, Serpent of the Silver Plumes being treated with such disrespect! Well, you wouldn't know respect for a demon if it walked up and hit you across the face. My previous masters would never have given me such a task." He turned away again in a huff once again letting Ptolemy's hair fall over his face.
Nathaniel looked almost shocked at this news from the demon.
"Never?"
"Funnily enough, yes. You know, Natty boy; most magicians would summon an imp or foliot for a 'quick fix' like that"
"Didn't I tell you not to call me that? And anyway–"
"I just happened to be around at the time, is that it?" retorted the demon.
"...I couldn't summon any other demon because I'd need to draw a pentacle, and just in case you'd forgotten: this is a hotel room."
The djinni turned his head back towards his master and looked at him like he'd just said the most ridiculous thing possible. Then, in answer, blew a very loud and violent raspberry.
"You were bothered about the floor? Look at the bedding! The cleaners are going to have a fit when they see this."
Nathaniel gave an irritated huff and folded his arms.
"Really, it's not that bad."
"Bad? It's covered in pink flowers!" the demon cried in disapproval. "And did you have to insist on that hideous wallpaper? Don't even get me started on the curtains."
"They're red, actually," he corrected with a scowl. "And even you said this room was a little dreary to say the least."
"Oh, so now you value my opinion?" It was true that Bartimaeus had found the hotel room just slightly depressing. All right, it made him feel like huddling in a corner and contemplating various ways of killing himself, but on the whole, it wasn't badly decorated. "It still doesn't give you the right to completely redecorate a Prague hotel room in such an obviously British style. I bet they were dead proud of the multitude of shades of grey they managed to cram into the room before you came along and made it all pretty. You'd better not make a habit of this – they'll be able to track you down by the trail of wet paint and wallpaper paste."
