The Hotel Wundagore

[spidey2099.livejournal.com]

It's a hell of a place.

They have seven suites on the top floor. The ritziest kind of opulent glamour of the era. Everything's comfortable, everything's stylized, and everyone gets their own hot showers.

Thanks to one guy getting sick of a neverending journey through crap.

"Here we are, kids. Try not to damage the upholstery. And if anyone's around, my name is Tyler Stone."

His throat constricts and tastes of vomit just for saying that.

"You're welcome."

Comments

[spidey2099.livejournal.com]

An eyebrow raises.

"And maybe now you can understand why I'm not full of the joy of life."

[proteus-maximus.livejournal.com]

"Difference is that I'm going to do something about what's bumming me out, and then it'll be back to business as usual. Grim and gritty all the time? No, thanks."

[spidey2099.livejournal.com]

Miguel just shakes his head.

"I've got a hologram in my wrist that giggles like Marilyn Monroe. Nothing gritty about that."

With that, he turns to head off toward his room. He could use the shut-eye.