I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! 8D Gosh that's a great feeling.

So yeah, here we are, with a first chapter that's just not as fun as I want it to be, but hey! It's all exposition! XD Water you gonna do?

Note: Marguerite is Frenchyqueen92's OC, which sounds really weird, using another person's OC in your own story, but I've seen it done often enough and plus I beta her story for her (A Prince's Love, go check it out guys ;D).

Warning: Rated T for Kili the Asshole's language

Marguerite heard high-pitched giggles and whispers in accented English. She knew making the move from New York to Las Vegas was a bad idea; she'd never admit it, oh no, that would make her cousin Lobelia right and Lobelia being right was never a good idea—but she did know. And now, trying to not stare at all the show girls in their feathery costumes and men in bulging tights, gossiping about all the mishaps and mess-ups that happened onstage tonight while the audience gazed ignorantly, Marguerite felt more awkward than ever.

Marguerite Baggins had come to Vegas to work. Her skill sets included lighting and sound boards, headset repair, and yelling from the diaphragm—a technician. She wanted to eventually become stage manager of her own theater one day, but for now, this was just as good a place as any to start. She only needed to make sure rhinestone push-up bras and alcohol didn't get in her way.

Here she was, a strawberry-blonde girl of twenty-three, weaving her way through the maze that was the backstage of the Ká Theater, trying to follow the stage manager. The man was nonchalantly throwing directions and comments over his shoulder as if she could hear him over all the other noise around her. What a lofty man he was, with shoulders broad as a door was wide and black whiffs of hair. Oh goodness, what was his name? He'd told her when they'd first met, shaking hands after the show that night.

The young woman racked her short-term memory for that tidbit as the stage manager talked about the girl they were heading to meet, her new roommate. Marguerite stopped her search just in time to notice him say, "—odd one, but I'm sure you won't have much trouble. You seem like a no-nonsense kinda girl."

She chuckled. "I try not to cause too much trouble." Just before the silent pause between the two reached an awkward length, it came back to her. "Thank you for showing me around, Mr. Ake. I appreciate it."

"Hm." The manager stopped at a door marked 215 and knocked, his fist drumming the door like it was a timpani. "Kili!" he shouted. There was no answer. Mr. Ake rolled his eyes and knocked again, shouting louder. "Kili!" Still no answer. The manager tucked his clipboard underneath his arm and jiggled the handle so hard Marguerite thought he'd break it off. "He can be rather difficult—sometimes," he clarified, along with, "Kili open the door!"

"Calm your tits!" a deep voice sounded from within above the noise of rustling papers and a chair screeching across the floor. Marguerite was sure she heard something heavy fall to the ground with a clang, followed by muffled swearing.

That's when it clicked. Marguerite stared wide-eyed at the manager for clarification. "Wait—'he'?"

Mr. Ake looked at her, brows down. "Haven't you been listening to anything I just told you?"

"Mr. Ake," Marguerite defended, hands on her hips, hair steaming, "when we spoke on the phone two weeks ago, I was assured I'd be rooming with another woman."

Before Mr. Ake could do so much as twitch a nerve, the door was wrenched from his tanned fist. Leaning in the doorway was a disheveled young man in his mid-twenties. He was garbed in a pair of red camo pants and a stretched, gray wife-beater; dark chest hair surfaced from beneath the plunging collar. Long brown locks lay about his shoulders, framing puppy-brown eyes, and a stubbly frown. "What do you want, Bé?"

"Your roommate showed up." the manager snarled.

The man cocked a brow, seemingly unimpressed. "Roommate?" He rolled the world around his lips like an oiled marble.

Mr. Ake fisted his hair. "What is it with you kids these days; don't listen to a damn thing I say—"

The young man's jaw flexed into a grimace and he rolled away from the door. "Ah, shit!"

Bé looked ready to impale the kid. He turned to a dumbfounded Marguerite. "Your luggage should be brought up shortly."

Marguerite couldn't believe her inconvenience. "But—"

"No 'buts'!" He sighed exasperatedly. "Look, as I said before, this was our only available option. We brought on a few too many back-up dancers before you came, so unless you can afford rent elsewhere, I suggest you learn to adapt. Plus you don't have anything to worry about: Kili's gayer than a mantis shrimp."

Marguerite nearly fainted; she grabbed the door frame for support as Kili froze, heat burning his eyes to cinders. "I am not, jackass!"

"Shut up, Kili." He turned to leave then stuck a finger toward the young man's pink nose. "No. Trouble. I expect you to show her around—properly." The stage manager stomped back down the hall, disappearing around a corner and leaving the two youths to sort out any mishaps.

Kili watched him go with a nearly blank expression. "Dick." He turned and retired to the room, picking up the chair that fell over and kicking oily paper wrappers to the side. As he went about throwing personal items—three framed pictures on a dresser, a half-empty cigarette packet, some boxers, and a few other things he got out of an adjoining room behind a white door decorated with skateboard stickers—into a gray, black, and sky blue hiking backpack, he said, "If Beorn had bothered to tell me you were coming, this place would be more prepared, but whatever. You'll cope."

As far as the actual room went, it was larger than Marguerite had expected: fifteen feet square, she estimated. A desk was directly to her right, pushed in the corner of the room; There were stray papers, broken envelopes, an open MacBook Air, and McDonald's wrappers piled high on its surface. Underneath the desk sat a pair of tattered high-tops, partly concealed by a comfortable office chair. To the left of the desk was a large black speaker, big as a mattress, akin to those used in rock concerts that were housed in theaters set to seat thousands. On the back wall, two dressers flanked a chrome bunk bed; the dresser on the left was twice the height of the one on the right and both sported tacky, dingy lamps. Hidden behind each lamp was a shuttered window.

Between the speaker and the short dresser was a door and on the left wall were two other doors, separated by a large oval mirror. In the corner directly to her left sat a cherry red electric guitar that looked like it'd never been used and a small flat screen Samsung. A PS4, controllers and mat of cords were parked next to it. Every spare inch of the walls that wasn't taken up by furniture was cloaked in posters of rock bands and Hollywood bestsellers: AC/DC, Led Zepplin, Pink Floyd, KISS, Marilyn Monroe, The Avengers, Avatar, Lawrence of Arabia, Pacific Rim, and, oddly enough, Toy Story 3.

Kili emerged from the first door on the left and Marguerite was able to catch a glimpse of the edge of a sink and lip of a toilet. "I didn't think these rooms would have their own bathroom." she remarked, more to herself than as a conversation starter.

Kili shoved the now full backpack underneath the bottom bunk next to a big black chest. "You're one of the lucky ones. Most people have to suffer with the lower-deck rooms; these have been recently upgraded. Not only—" he raised a finger and paused for dramatic effect, "—with their very own bathrooms but also—" Standing, Kili reached across the room and opened the second door on the left and the single door on the right to reveal two rather deep closets. "—with closetsssss!"

With his bright grin stretched to his hidden ears, arms wide and dazzling jazz hands, Marguerite knew he was a homme de théâtre.

When her roommate did nothing else but stare at her blankly, she tucked her wild hair behind her ear and cleared her throat awkwardly. Kili stuffed his hands in his pockets and frowned. "That's just great." he said. "They stuck me with a stiff."

"E—excuse me?"

Kili rolled his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Um—" she stepped forward and offered her confident hand. "Marguerite."

Kili's half-lidded eyes stared at her hand a moment, mouth slightly ajar, before he took it as if she were infested with leeches and said, "I'll clean my shit up on Sunday. Don't unpack till then."

Marguerite blinked dumbly and nodded. "Alright."

Noises of a crowd in the direction of the stairwell reached their ears and thrummed quietly on the door frame. Kili made his way towards it and glanced out; he seemed to become excited at the sound of some distinct words that Marguerite could barely register. Shoving on the high-tops and grabbing the brown jacket from the back of the desk chair, Kili said, "Don't lock the door. I'll be back by eight."

Marguerite was about to ask why eight o'clock was considered late (she later realized Kili most likely meant 8 am), but the roommate was already gone. The door clicked closed and she was left alone in a strange room in a strange building in a strange city.

A buzz trumpeted from the pocket of her bag. Fishing out her stubby cell phone, Marguerite saw a text from Lobelia. Goodness, what a worry wart! Couldn't she leave her alone for just a day? Marguerite was not in the mood to talk, but she opened and read the message anyway.

Everything fine?

No, nothing was fine. She, Marguerite Baggins, was in a metropolis that kept your dirty little secrets tucked away in its pocketbook. She was rooming with a man she didn't even know and certainly didn't trust. What if he brought back "a friend?" She'd be trapped. Marguerite felt lost.

Couldn't be better! :)

She hurriedly clicked out the reply and placed the phone back in its pocket, standing in place until the bellhop arrived with her luggage.

It was going to be a long journey.

I needed a last name for Beorn, so I found "Ake" which is Mikael Persbrandt's middle name.

:P gosh this chapter's so bland.

But next chapter's better I swear! So much better in fact that I'm giving it to you tomorrow! :D how delightful, right? It includes not only more Kili the Asshole, not only more side characters (cannon and OCs), not only a lot of arguments, but also *que drumroll* Filiiiiiiiiiiii!

Rate and Review! :3