this is not a fiesta

[remarkablyspry]

WHO: Christine, Steve
WHERE: A hotel
WHEN: 8/24
WARNINGS: it's not a fiesta :(
SUMMARY: not even close to being a fiesta



"Sir, like I said before..."

Steve's hands lifted, smiling broadly, apologetically, and quite anxious to diffuse any unpleasantness. "No, I know!" he said quickly. "You were quite clear before as to your boss' busy schedule. And I am certainly happy to wait another hour more, if that's acceptable!"

The young concierge, uncomfortable and faintly irritated, grimaced a little before giving her computer another long, needless look. She kept doing that, expecting the gesture to somehow make it seem she was doing something to change the situation to no avail, when the reality was she was having to recycle the same excuses as before. Again.

"Sir," she sighed, "I really don't think today's going to be a good day. I'm sorry. There's some kind of business conference he has to deal with, and–"

"I understand," Steve cut her off, clasping his hands together and ducking his head. "Truly! But if you could tell me of a more ideal time to inquire about employment..."

Comments

[detriments]

"Clearly I don't know enough!" They kept walking, and their conversation progressed without a hitch as she took a place in the restaurant, sitting across the table from him. The chair was pulled for her by the garçon, thanked with another bright little smile. "This place really is amazing." Leaning over the table, elbows resting on it, she tucked her chin over her intertwined fingers. "Tell me more."

[remarkablyspry]

Steve had none of the grace and control Christine conveyed in nearly every motion and word, and so while she eased into her place at table, Steve was like a pick-up stick trying to noodle its way through a side-winding space. A pick-up stick that had none of the self-awareness necessary to feel embarrassed by that fact.

He situated, flustered but chipper, energized by the request for more. If he was good at much of anything, he certainly was good at rambling on and on about the things he knew a great deal about.

"Ah, well! How familiar are you with the circumstances relating to the Porter, alternate universes, and all the many persons drawn in by it?"

[detriments]

"I'm aware of the different worlds," She replied, eyes narrowed, looking away to think about it briefly. "I met a boy who already had super powers, for example. And now I've met you."

[remarkablyspry]

"Oh, good!" He was relieved, shoulders sagging with his breath. "That makes it easier to segue right into the particulars of my own situation."

Steve's mouth opened and closed, eyebrows raised in a sudden look of confusion. His own situation...Where was the right place to start, again? He blinked.

Oh!

"Ah, that's right. See...See, there's this somewhat-stable circumstance wherein mechanoids and the like transported from their respective worlds and-or realities are reconfigured to better suit the environment here. That is, it seems it won't do well for the City should robots and androids walk freely the way they are without causing quite the panic!" He half-squinted, wondering if that was the true reasoning at all, or simply a good reason to go with. "And being myself an android, I found myself organic for the very first time upon arrival! I only wish I knew the processes involved in such a feat, but I'm afraid I can offer you none of the details."