Here's the second chapter for you all! I apologize; this is following a logical time-line. It seems that a plot has come to me—gasp!—and Controlling Entropy will be...flowing. Hope that doesn't bother you too much.
Also, Eirika, Seth, Joshua, and Natasha will not all meet for two more chapters. Sorry!
Enjoy, darlings!
-)(-On the Job-)(-
The security surveillance system that ran Castle Renais was much more than an "eye in the sky" of the hotel, Seth found. The complex, expertly-coordinated network of computers and cameras that flicked across two hundred screens in the large basement complex; all recording their data and sending it to three private servers—two in a deeper level of the security annex and one, apparently, in a hidden location in Arizona!— was something more akin to an army in each patron's brain.
With such a system, he expressed to Forde and Kyle, he saw little need for a head of staff. The two men shared a horrified look before the blonde man turned to him in desperation. "No, sir! We need you here. The cameras, they're for backup! We have to send out squads to deal with problems, and deal with angry customers, and all kinds of things that we've had to try to figure out to do for months, now, and I really can't take anymore of the job because it's hard—not that you won't be able to handle it! You'll do splendidly, Admiral!".
Kyle, who had been about to strike the back of his friend's head for rambling, stopped his hand in mid-swing. "...Admiral?" He said dubiously, looking over to Seth. "I wasn't aware you had naval experience, sir".
"I don't," He replied, fixing his dark eyes on the other security guard. "Forde? Where are you coming from with that?".
"I thought you had military experience".
"I was an officer with the New York City Police for a while, but...no," Seth shook his head. He noticed Franz—Forde's brother, he had learned—jerk his head to stare at him with even bigger stars in his eyes for his new boss; but pushed it aside as Forde spoke.
"Well! You're such a commanding figure, sir, I thought you needed an imposing nickname. But "Admiral" doesn't seem to be cutting it....Hmm, I wonder....". Seth rubbed the back of his head with a sigh. This had to go along with the napping, he assumed—Forde seemed to be the "free spirit" of his new guards. That aside, he seemed more than able to do his job; as did all of the men he had met so far. To his left, Kyle scowled at the other man and muttered something about his idiocy before resuming his explanation of the computer system.
It seemed that the three hundred men that were now under him had—basically—two jobs. He had half of his total staff at the hotel at all times. One hundred of them would man two monitors each while the other fifty would walk about the hotel and be the first response to any situations. Everyone there, Kyle said, was capable of shifting between the tasks at a moment's notice. Seth grasped the basic concepts of it all quickly, and was in the middle of synchronizing his new ear-piece when Franz hesitantly called him over from his seat at Station 61.
"Um, Mr. Marshall, sir?".
And he thought that "Officer" made him feel old! "Seth is fine, Franz. What is it?", He asked the young man, bending over so he could see the screens in front of the other's chair. Franz pointed to a poker table with a rather large collection of chips in the middle.
"I think that something is going wrong here, M—Seth. This man—in the green polo—has been putting way too much in, and....". Frowning, Seth looked at the game more closely. The gentlemen in question did indeed have a large sum of money invested—what looked to be ten thousand dollars, he saw—and he also didn't look like the sort of person who had ten thousand dollars to throw away in a card game. Seth straightened and waved Kyle and Forde over.
"Do we have a 'kind shark' policy here?". They both nodded, Franz added in that the dealer had been enforcing it, and Seth's frown deepened. "Then this dealer should be signaling soon," He said, returning his gaze to the screen.
Not thirty seconds later, while speaking to Mr. Polo, the dealer tugged her handkerchief out of her back pocket and left it hanging down. "That's it," Forde said, quickly sliding his walkie-talkie back onto his belt. "Let's go see you in action, Gunny".
"...That one's not working too well, brother," Franz softly muttered. Forde heaved a sigh and mussed his sibling's hair.
"You keep watching him, kiddo. We'll be back soon". The three men—two in uniforms, their leader in his suit—then left Security. The layout of the hotel had been committed to Seth's memory last week, and with the mental blueprint it wasn't hard to navigate up the stairwell and through the back hallways of Castle Renais. Various housekeepers and the odd guest stared at the trio as they hurried to the second casino room and Seth felt slightly guilty that he couldn't at least spare a nod to them; but he knew that what was possibly going on at that poker table was very dangerous.
The basic rule of any casino was to make money. However, woven correspondingly into casino intricacies was the footnote "make more money by getting return customers". As such, most reputable casinos had a "kind shark" policy in place—a certain monetary limit, determined by the apparent financial status of the gambler in question, that the dealer would try not to push them past. For example, if there's a man placing twenty-dollar bets every time he gets a new hand, the dealer might let him lose five-hundred dollars before suggesting he bet a little lower, or even encouraging him to quit the game. This would both create a sense of camaraderie with the nice dealer who didn't want the evil casino to suck him dry and ensure that the man's temper wouldn't flare and cause problems within the establishment. From the looks of the tape, Seth assumed that the dealer had been trying to convince the man to lower his bets for some time and had told him that he should quit playing and cash in his chips—but the man refused to do so, as people occasionally would. Whenever that happened, the dealer knew to send a casino-specific signal to security to there could be officers in the room when the player had a big loss. The presence of armed people in a position of authority, Seth had always found, tended to quell—or at least make people mask—their anger.
"It's not too much farther, Colonel," Forde said. "Eh, forget that one, too. The room's just above us, here—see that staircase to your right, coming up by the vending machine? Take it, and we'll be exiting right beside the—GAH!".
A deafening BOOM! sounded from above their heads, and Seth had taken off up the stairs before Franz had a chance to shout into their communicators. "Code Black Knight! Squads Six and Nine, report to Area F!". Upon flinging the door open, Seth felt something heavy settle in his chest. Franz's quick explanation of the code to him wasn't needed.
He could see that a Code Black Knight stood for excessive violence.
-)(-
Eirika smiled kindly at her head of housekeeping. "Anabelle, that's a wonderful idea. I don't see why I couldn't allow your staff to wear some sort of holiday paraphernalia beginning next month...just make sure it's nothing religious, okay?". The middle aged woman smiled back at her employer with a sharp little nod.
"Oh, yes, ma'am! We don't want a lawsuit! Thank you very much, Eirika". With a light reply back, the heiress continued down the hallway, pausing hesitantly before the door to the stairs that would lead her to the Security Room.
I shouldn't be checking up on him, She scolded herself; hand frozen on the metal handle. He got this job because he could handle it, he doesn't need me breathing down his neck while he's trying to work! ...I don't need to be breathing down his neck! Seth is very nice...but I need to treat him like any other employee. But that, another part of her rationalized, would be hard to do. Being head of her security staff, she and Seth were forced by the nature of their jobs to interact on a closer level than any other relationship she had with her employees—he was, after all, the only member of her staff that lived in the hotel with her. He was required to. And wasn't that surveillance system notoriously difficult to learn, anyway? Eirika sighed, turning the doorknob. I should check in...just to see how my second-in-command is doing, she thought. The woman ignored the tiny voice that hissed Lyon, Lyon, it's this all over again...!
As the door opened, a loud roll of noise coursed through the Castle Renais, and Eirika stepped back from the door in shock. Thunder? But...no, that's not.... She frowned, then gasped as she heard rushed footsteps coming up the stairs. Franz Charger jerked to a halt to avoid colliding with his boss. "Oh! Miss Eirika!".
"What's happening?", Eirika asked her youngest guard as she quickly took off down the hall, Franz slowing his usual pace slightly to remain alongside her.
"Black Knight," He answered. "Mr. Marshall and my brother are there with Kyle...it looks bad". Eirika frowned at him, turning down a hallway.
"But what was that noise?" She said. "Just now, like thunder". Franz paused before answering her, and she inwardly winced. Whatever it was, it was a HR disaster....
-)(-
Despite the bad situation, Seth found the lump in his torso softening. Maybe it had something to do with years of seeing riots, muggings, murder scenes, narcotic busts, and not to mention that embarrassing incident where he had stumbled in on Senator Akins' son and a prostitute; but suddenly his usual calm washed over him. And the red-faced, screaming man in front of the flipped card table, along with the horrified dealer and fifty or so other patrons in the room, didn't seem so bad.
Kyle and Forde had stopped behind him, both impatient to do something and unsure of what, exactly, to do. Taking a deep breath in, Seth held out a hand to keep them in their places and strode forward as non-threateningly as possible towards the still yelling man. "THIS IS BULLSHIT! GOD DAMN BULLSHIT! WHAT SORT OF SHIT ARE YOU RUNNING HERE?!". The dealer trembled from her sprawled place on the floor, trying to scoot backwards, but her movements were shaky and uncertain. A quick scan of the woman revealed that her right ankle was steadily becoming darker and swollen, and the way that side of her body moved made it clear that the table had hit the woman as it was hoisted into the air.
"Sir, I see that there's a problem here," Seth injected quickly, sliding in between the angry man and the overturned table to prevent him from reaching anybody else—dealer included—in the room. "Please, lower your voice, and we can discuss this in a more private setting". That was a lie, he knew. As soon as the man was somewhat tranquil; he would be arrested by his men before he was turned over to the police for destruction of property and aggravated assault. Seth resisted the urge to shift his leg off of the poker chips poking awkwardly into his foot and locked eyes with the angry gambler, making sure his stance was confident and powerful.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO TELL ME TO LOWER MY VOICE!" He bellowed, "THIS DAMN PLACE WIPED ME CLEAN!".
Seth kept his face impassive. "I'm the head of security here, sir. The dealer told you to stop playing several hands ago, and the Castle Renais cannot be held responsible for your negligence of her warnings. I'll ask you again to lower your voice and come with me," He said in a lower tone, narrowing his eyes slightly. Crisis control had to be swift, he knew—and if it wasn't, it normally escalated to violence.
A quiet gasp from behind him told him—somehow—that Eirika Svarog was there with Forde and Kyle, and Seth bit back the order for her to leave. It was dangerous for the heiress there, he knew; more dangerous for her to be there than it was for any other person in the entirety of Castle Renais. From speaking to her brother, he found that Eirika liked to interact with her guests...and the odds were that the man would recognize her. She was, after all, a beautiful woman with an unusual hair color. He had to keep the man focused on him, or the woman would become his next target. "Sir. Come with me," Seth ordered, dropping any remaining pretenses of gentility towards the angry patron.
"THE HELL I WILL, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Was his reply as he snarled viciously and lunged towards Seth. The guard took a deep breath in and steeled himself for the man's attack.
-)(-
She couldn't believe what was happening. Seconds before, her new head of security had been standing like some sort of knight amidst the chaos of scared people and wildly strewn cards and plastic discs, bravely facing off a dangerous lunatic and now.... Now, Seth was still just standing there with this determined look on his face as same lunatic charged at him with some horrible battle cry.
Oh God, no! Eirika cringed, her mind unwillingly flashing to Seth's resume. "Some proficiency in hand-to-hand combat," it read, and the woman had taken that to mean he took boxing for a year or something. Cops and bodyguards usually came with guns, but her security officers didn't—they had M18 TASERS for emergencies, and (of course!) Seth hadn't received most of his tools yet. So, here he was, about to get pummeled by some crazy gambler with some proficiency in fighting; and Eirika felt the blood rush away from her face and pound in her temples as she choked out an order to do something to Forde and Kyle and Franz. Then, as the three men pulled their TASERS from their sides, the man struck out at Seth Marshall.
He caught the punch.
Tightening his grip on the man's clenched fist, Seth pulled back with his arm to force his assailant forward, quickly jerking his left arm under the man's same limb and using the moment of displaced balance to spin him around. Releasing his hand, he twisted his other arm around the stunned attacker's neck and shifted his left arm upwards so he could grasp his bicep with his right hand, placing the palm of his left flat against the man's head. "Don't move," Seth commanded in a low rumble, and the man, instantly fearful and meek, nodded. "Kyle".
The green-haired man rushed forward, cuffing one of the man's wrists before Seth released him from his choke hold. As soon as the violent poker-player was out of the room,the silence was broken with wild applause and cheering from the others inside. Seth didn't seem to care for it, Eirika noticed, as he was kneeling beside the injured card dealer and checking her ankle. He was the same gentle man from that morning, not the fierce warrior from a moment ago, and the Charger brothers approached their boss with wide smiles.
"Well done, General!" Forde shouted. "Hey...that's it! Remember that, Franz!".
Dark eyes looked to the younger brother. "Franz, this woman is hurt. Take her to where she needs to go, please".
"Y-yes sir, General Seth!" He stammered, grabbing his walkie-talkie. "I need a wheelchair in Area F, ASAP!". After seeing the pair help the woman to her feet, Forde supporting the weight on her right side, the auburn-haired man stood back upright and turned to his hovering employer.
"Miss Eirika," He said.
Eirika let out her breath. "I'm glad you're alright, Seth...I thought that you only had some proficiency in fighting?" She asked pointedly, locking her teal eyes onto his. He smiled softly at her remark.
"It isn't becoming to brag," Was his reply as he kept an eye on the other two security squads ushering the customers back to their own games. Eirika sighed at that and finally gave him a smile of her own.
"It looks you have some work to do here," She said, gesturing to the general mayhem in the room. "As do I. But...very well done," Eirika complimented him, resting her hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you, ma'am".
"Just keep it up, General," She laughed with a wicked grin, removing her hand. "The men are looking up to you already. I think that Ephraim was right in hiring you".
"Of course...Princess," He said. She looked back into warm eyes for a moment, stared slack-jawed as he bowed. Seth Marshall moved past her to give directions to the newly-arriving guards. "Well, is that not your position in the Castle Renais?", He murmured to her with a slightly devious smile of his own. Eirika blushed, choked past a few sounds, then finally settled with telling him to get to work.
-)(-On the Job-)(-
Gerik had laughed—loudly—when he picked up the phone at a quarter 'till six. "Hey scatterbrain, your cash is back!".
"Go to Hell," Joshua muttered to him, "Hold on". Silencing the telephone, he turned his headset on. "And that was The Stillborn's latest. Stay tuned, because after these commercials, it's time for my advice hour on this lovely Thursday evening". Clicking the ten-minute commercial roll that he was forced to play twice during his six-hour shift, he flipped the headset off again and returned to the phone. "Okay. So my wallet's here?".
"Yeah. And your little lady is, too".
Joshua rolled his eyes. "She doesn't belong to me, Gerik. Ah...bring her up here, I guess. And if you have a contract for her, could you get that out for her to sign?".
"Sure thing!" He replied. "Doc? Just go to floor five and head into the broadcasting room there—it's the first door you see. Don't mind the flashing red light". Joshua could hear the chime of the elevator before Gerik spoke to him again. "I'm faxing it up to you now, man".
"Thanks," He replied. "...And what are you doing at the station so early?".
"I actually came to drop off the contract to you, since I knew she was coming to return your wallet," Gerik said (laughing again, of course). "I got here probably two minutes before she did". Joshua sighed and responded with a dry remark about it being his lucky day. "Yeah, lucky that I'm married, because otherwise I'd be putting the moves on her! Women are powerless to resist my charms!".
"Your damn bedroom voice is more like it, ass," Joshua teased back. "You and your wife....Why do you think they have the sex-charged duo running things from seven 'till eleven?". Gerik laughed again, and Joshua had begun to chuckle along when there was a knock at the door. "Oh. Guess Natasha's up here...talk to you later". Hanging up the phone, Joshua stood from his swivel chair with a groan and moved to the door. It opened to reveal Dr. White with a familiar brown leather wallet in her hand, her own small purse in the other. "Hello again," He smiled. "Sorry you had to come all the way here because I'm forgetful...."
The woman smiled back at him and held out his wallet, stepping into the room. "No, it wasn't a problem at all. I actually figured that I could go ahead and look at that contract you mentioned?". Joshua nodded and turned back to his station, picking up the still warm paper. When he turned back around, he saw that the woman was mouthing something to herself. Before he had a chance to ask about it, she sighed a number. "Twenty...?".
"Twenty...twenty what?". Natasha looked to him, slightly startled, before flushing.
"Oh! I, um, was just counting your call lights...you can take twenty at a time up here? Is there no screening process for those who call in?".
Huh. Guess I never really had to think about how many people could ring me. "No, there is. They go through three receptionists before they can get up here...most of the time, they don't mind it. Sometimes, if it's really slow, they'll go straight to me, but that's once in a blue moon". The psychiatrist nodded, then looked to her contract. "Oh. Right. Um, it's the basics...an outline of your obligation, a proposed start date, salary....." Joshua moved to slide a chair over to her, and after she sat, he leaned over her with the paper, a finger pointing out specifics. "You'll get a hundred bucks each night you're in here...so, that's about fourteen thousand a year. The only limitation on possible termination of the contract on your end is that you give us the usual two weeks notice. Well, rather, you tell me. I'm your channel here—I'll pay you, set you up with access cards, everything like that".
Natasha pulled a pen from her bag after scanning the rest of the document. Gently taking the paper from Joshua, she signed it in all three places, dated the item, and returned it with another of her little smiles. "Looks like we're in business".
He grinned, prepared to reply, when his cellphone rang. "What the...Gerik? Sorry," He said to the woman, flipping the device open. "Yeah? ...What? How do you...Marissa says that? Oh, God...she just signed the damn thing five seconds ago...can we legally go through with—no, you know what? It doesn't matter. Tell him to hold on for three minutes," He sharply said, snapping his phone shut.
"There is a soldier," Natasha softly confirmed—her voice was too sure for it to be a question. "I can begin whenever you'd like".
Joshua felt a wave of relief and clarity at the woman's reaction. "Thank you. Crash course in communicating on the air—don't speak until I signal you," He told her, slipping a headset over the golden hair.
"I'm not sure that's exactly how it works...." She murmured back, fiddling with the microphone beside her mouth. "But alright". He sat down, reached over, and took her tiny hand into his own. It was squeezed quickly, once, before he let go.
"For luck," He whispered. To calm me down. As the commercial came to an end, he cut the announcement for the drive-through wedding chapel off as he brought The Tiger back on air. "We're back here at 104.1 The Tiger. This is Joshua, and as a very special treat, we have the lovely Dr. Natasha White joining us a few days early. How are you, doctor?".
"I'm doing well, thank you," Natasha returned, smiling at him. "And you are well also?".
"Yeah. Well, it looks like we have a caller on the line...you might have to help me out with this one, Doc,".
"It would be an honor". She said. "Hello, I'm Dr. White...and who might I be speaking to?".
There was a sharp, startled inhale before the man spoke. "Staff Sergeant Gilliam Knightly of the United States Army, ma'am".
Dear Lord, is this guy jumpy military or what?! Joshua thought, shaking his head to bring his mind back to the real matter at hand. "Hey, Staff Sergeant. What can we help you with tonight?".
The harsh, clipped voice cracked over the phone. "I let my men die, sir. I lead them into a wired building...the only reason I made it back from that hellhole was because their bodies...." There was a shaky gasp, "...They shielded my own from the shrapnel. And....". Joshua let the pause linger for a few seconds, had opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped by a light touch. Natasha shook her head at him, and spoke herself.
"You feel guilty, Staff Sergeant Knightly? Responsible?" She gently asked, and something about her voice shocked the disc jockey. She sounds like she's asking him if his head or his stomach hurts...not if he's grappling with Demon A or Demon B. It's...soothing. Natural. Perfect. Hell, I want to confess! The voice on the other end of the line remained silent for a moment more.
"I want to die, ma'am".
Joshua bit his tongue and looked worriedly towards the woman next to him, bright eyes flickering with uncertainty and panic. Oh, fuck. Oh, no, no, no, no....Suicide was the last thing he was ready to mess with, and he knew that even therapists had a hard time dealing with it. Dr. White, however, kept her face entirely composed and continued to talk to the man. "For how long?".
"...Since it happened four months ago, ma'am".
"And have you told anybody else?".
"No, ma'am".
"I'm glad you're telling me," Natasha said kindly. "Thank you. Staff Sergeant...I can tell you three things right now. Are you willing to completely hear what I have to say to you?".
"Yes, ma'am".
"Okay. Firstly, there will come no good in ending your life. As cliché as it sounds, you're looking at a permanent solution for a temporary problem. On that note, my second thing to tell you is that you're not broken because of this—you can still heal, because you have the fortitude to call in for help. Thirdly...you should see a therapist for a more detailed assessment and treatment. Is there one on base you can go to?".
"I tried, ma'am. He wasn't much help...there are others, with PTSD and everything....".
Natasha sighed. "Alright. Would you consider coming in to my office, then?".
"...Yes, ma'am". The Staff Sergeant said, and his voice was much less guarded now. "I could...I would be willing to". Her smile was gentle and radiant, and Joshua found himself smiling as well before he held up his hand to her and spoke.
"That's great, Staff Sergeant Knightly. If you'd hang on for a second, we can get you all of the information you need," The man agreed to wait, and Joshua disconnected his call from the air. "Thank you for that, Natasha...got any questions for us? Call 555-1041 now. We'll be back after some music," He clicked the "random" button on the music player and took them both off the air before reconnecting Natasha with Gilliam Knightly. The woman arranged an appointment with the man for the following Tuesday, and after she hung up the phone, he set one more song to play.
"I don't know how you did it...." He said, resting his head in his hands. "Dear God, I nearly died just listening to him say that....". The woman smiled at him and laced her fingers in her lap.
"He wasn't an immediate suicide threat if he was calling in to us, Joshua. For your future reference, when speaking with somebody who is suicidal, don't try to tell them about the good in their life".
Joshua lifted his eyes to her with a slow nod. "Right...you didn't do that. I was waiting for 'you have so much to live for' or something".
"That is one of the worst things you can do, actually. You see, there's something called state-dependent thinking....Take, for instance, a fight with a girlfriend. She does one thing to make you mad, and while you argue you remember everything she's ever done that angered you. It is much the same with feelings of depression. If you try to convince someone that a single aspect of their life isn't so bad; it will only cause them to reflect on other aspects that make them depressed. Those with depression actually see the world differently than you and I do, Joshua".
"So...don't try to convince a depressed person they're okay, because you make it worse?".
"...Basically," Natasha smiled. "Oh. I think you're about to be on". Startled, he looked to the song's time display—fifteen seconds?!—and quickly brought himself back on-air.
He managed to finish his shift with no more problems; as well as no further need for Natasha White's assistance in dealing with people's questions. After quickly advising a girl to get screened for STDs, Joshua cut to the ten-minute reel of commercials again so Gerik and Tethys could get settled into their positions. He was in the process of ushering Natasha out when a woman with red hair much like his own rushed out of the elevator doors and wrapped her into a perfumed hug.
"Oh, my dear, you were splendid!", Tethys gushed, holding Natasha back at arm's length, her painted lips curved into a warm smile. "This has to be one of the best things to happen to this station! And you're gorgeous, too!".
Natasha, obviously not used to such attention (Joshua himself still wasn't, and he'd worked with her for years!), blushed at the praise and sheepishly responded. "Oh, um, thank you....Uh...who are you?", She asked, looking at the stranger who had so quickly embraced her. The woman's mouth made a small "o" of surprise, and she drew back her hands, the many bracelets she wore clinking with her movement.
"I'm so sorry! I'm Tethys, I work the shift right after Joshua with my husband—Gerik! Gerik, get over here and come meet her!".
"I already have," He said, sauntering over from the still-open elevator. "Nice work, Doc". Gerik grinned over at her, then turned to Joshua. "Hey, nice way to pick 'em, man!". The red-haired man, in turn, rolled his eyes.
"I hope you're referring to Natasha and not the man who called in," His wife muttered with a suddenly harsh tone. Gerik turned to her with an eyebrow raised, frowning.
"Tethys! I am appalled that you would even think I meant that!". The woman snorted something back at him, and without a goodbye, the pair went into the broadcasting room. Natasha watched them go with a look of concentration, and after the door had been shut, she put her deep blue eyes on Joshua.
"...I am...not entirely sure if he was being serious with Tethys," She said. He shook his head with a laugh, waving his arm to get her moving towards the elevator again.
Pushing the button to get the doors to open again, he peered over his shoulder to her. "He meant nothing bad by what he said, if that's what you're getting at. Gerik's a good man—but, yeah. It's hard to tell when he's pulling your leg or not...I guess it is even for a shrink". Joshua Cutler paused and hastily backpedaled. "Uh...I mean...sorry," He sheepishly added. "Guess that's an offensive term....".
Natasha shook her head. "It...well, not really. A 'comes with the territory' sort of thing; like a lawyer being called a slime-ball".
"...That's the worst you've heard them called?" Joshua inquired, stepping into the elevator. "My God, I've heard people say meaner things that slime-ball about their own mother, much less a lawyer!". The petite woman sniffed at that.
"Nothing wrong with some propriety," She parried. "Mind you, people come to me to tell me about what's bothering them—I think that I've heard some of the worst names people can be called".
"Nah...sorry, Natasha, but that little perk goes to a referee".
She giggled lightly. "That's true....Oh. Ground floor...I assume you have some things to wrap up?". The man nodded.
"Yeah...putting you on so early might take a bit of work to smooth out with the boss; and I have a bit of correspondence to finish. I can walk you to your car....".
"No, that's alright. I live close to Dark Stone, so I walk to work. I actually took a cab here...I guess there's really no car for you to walk me to," She said. Joshua chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before stepping out of the elevator.
"Still....Hey, Marissa," A lavender-haired woman looked up from her typing with an aloof expression. "Could you call a cab to come get Dr. White, please?". She nodded and punched something into the phone, and at Natasha's perplexed expression, he was left to explain. "Sorry if you don't like things like this, but...well, my mom was attacked leaving here about a year ago, and I'm kind of iffy about women leaving unattended".
"Oh! I'm so sorry, was she alright?".
He grinned. "Wrong person to be worrying about. She broke the guy's arm in three places and fractured his spine". Her eyes widened. "Ah, she's got a black-belt in Akido, so she flipped him over properly".
"Well...I'm glad she was unharmed. And I don't really mind it," She said.
Joshua smiled. "Good. Uh...you'll be okay waiting out here?".
"Yes. Thank you. Am I to be expected here tomorrow evening?".
"Well, not officially. But, if you'd like, you're always welcome to come".
"Tomorrow, then. Uh, goodnight, Joshua". She brushed a loose golden lock from her shoulder with a small, gentle smile; and even though most of his smiles looked more akin to smirks, he felt his lingering grin somehow turn softer in return.
"'Night". He turned back around and went up to the fifth floor again, waving in the window to Gerik and Tethys on his way to the employee break room. Joshua set the public laptop to boot while he rummaged about for the needed items to make a cup of coffee. He silently thanked the powers that be for the instant hot water dispenser, and let the powdered coffee dissolve into the Styrofoam cup while he—belatedly—logged into his e-mail. Put it off long enough, He grimaced, clicking the message from his mother open.
Still attempting to delay reading her words, he stirred a packet of artificial sugar into his steaming drink and downed half of the cup, wincing at the burning sensation it left on his tongue. "Ugh," Joshua grimaced before finally looking at the words on the screen.
The Castle Renais has finally gotten a new H.o.S. Dear one, I know how much you dislike my business; but for the sake of being polite, could you at least stop by the Christmas party where he'll be formally introduced to all of the hotel owners? It's going to be in mid-December, and black-tie....
Please, Joshua. Go, gamble a little, bring a nice girl.
We'll discuss this further at dinner tomorrow.
Maybe it was because he knew he couldn't refuse his mother, part of him said, that when he read about bringing a guest, Natasha White instantly flew to his mind. We'll see.
-)(-END-)(-
Again, a few notes to leave you off with....
I know nothing about casino workings, but a rule like the "kind shark" makes sense to me.
I do know about psychology—and I assure you, the advice Natasha gives to Joshua is valid. It's basically a summary of the last two weeks of Psych 2301.
And, please, don't hate on the band name. That one, and the rest that follow, are the tamer ones suggested by Mr. George Carlin. I love that man.
Coming in "Deck the Halls": Decorating a hotel is no laughing matter, Mommy has suggestions for the station's Christmas tree, and the looming party is brought up.