Post by MW on Jun 13, 2023 12:38:01 GMT -5
It’s the Hotel California. A hotel situated in, you guessed it, California. The place isn’t hurting for business. Chalk that extra hustle and bustle up to curiosity from a song that’s now way older than it sounds.
The people entering and exiting all blend together. They mean nothing to us, save for one. Marcus Welsh steps out of an Uber. He grabs his bag from the trunk.
“Five stars,” He holds up five fingers to the Uber driver as if he can’t understand him.
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” the driver responds in perfect English.
Welsh drags his bag into the hotel. He pauses, looking around, taking in the air. He allows a smile to run across his face, “Finally. Back where I belong.”
He locates the front desk and drags his suitcase in that direction. The hotel seems properly staffed, so he walks right up.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“Yea, Marcus Welsh, checking in, you might have heard of me,” he drops that last bit while casually looking away and brushing some imaginary debris off his t-shirt.
The clerk no-sells the remark, typing away. Welsh pulls up his phone and sees the driver came through with that five-star review. He sneers, “Car smelled like tuna sandwich.” He drops a three-star review for the driver.
“Okay, I have you down here for an extended stay in one of our suites.”
Welsh looks up, making eye contact with the clerk. “I mean, naturally.”
A moment passes. They both look at each other.
“I believe Penelope is taking care of my arrangements,” he whispers, leaning in.
“Yessir, it shows here that it’s all been taken care of.”
“Great!” Welsh taps the counter. “Oh, one more thing…”
“Yes?”
“I heard Jason Cashe stayed here recently…”
“Actually...”
Welsh doesn't let the clerk finish. “I'd like the suite that is physically,” he takes both arms and points in a far-off direction in an exaggerated motion, “as far away from where he stayed as possible.”
The clerk stares at Welsh and his over-the-top mannerisms for a moment. You hear a feminine laugh from behind him followed by a third voice entering the conversation.
"Jason Cashe wishes he stayed inside this Hotel…"
Walsh turns and sees Penelope as she casually slides up to the reception desk, a cocktail glass in her hand. She's dressed to impress as one would expect (you would hope) as she smiles at her guest.
"We had another…mm dignitary, you could say, who wished to see live wrestling here on the grounds. Jason was game…until we introduced the bear…"
She cackles, obviously remembering the ensuing shenanigans quite clearly.
"I dare say I've never seen a man run that fast in all my life. But after the ensuing damage, he has been banned from stepping foot on the grounds so you needn't worry."
She casually takes a sip of her drink.
"Oh, but where are my manners…allow me to introduce myself. Penelope, future Triad reassembler..."
She sets down her glass on the reception desk and holds out her hand. Welsh straightens his posture and takes Penelope’s hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I really appreciate you setting me up…this place looks great. And, I’m not gonna say this has any influence over my draft day decisions…” He leans in and smiles, “But it doesn’t hurt.”
Welsh laughs. The clerk hands him his key. He takes it and slaps the clerk's hand away, keeping his focus on Penelope. “So, what you got going on in that glass there?”
"Oh this? Our bartender Issac whips up the best Harvey Wallbangers this side of the pacific."
Penelope takes her glass and raises it with a nod behind Marcus. He turns following her gaze across the lobby to the bar. A young, 30ish black man smiles back at Penelope and gives her a double point with his fingers. With his afro, sideburns, and substantial mustache he looks to be about 50 years out of date style-wise. Marcus does a double take, making sure it isn't Ted Lange tending the bar. When Marcus turns back Penelope has a second glass in her hand which he is certain hadn't been in her possession a moment ago.
"Care for a drink?"
She smiles, almost to the point where it's creepy but just held off enough to allay any fears, as she presents the glass to him.
“Don’t mind if I do. The first-class accommodations were okay, plane was kind of small, to be honest. Little cramped. Plus, ya know, people, right? So many idiots around me. Nice to finally kick back and relax.”
Welsh takes the offered drink and engages in a sophisticated toast with Penelope. They take a walk from the desk, toward the bar, “So, Penelope, you seem like an ambitious person. What would you do with something as powerful as The Triad?”
"First let me apologize, I had given instructions that I was assured was crystal clear that you would be treated as a VIP. That should have included the airfare, so I will make sure to rectify that myself once your stay with us has ended."
Her smile had momentarily slipped off after hearing about the less-than-adequate air travel the Hotel had booked for Marcus. But she pulls it back up as she switches topics.
"Ambitious to a fault you could say…but I've discovered in this business, it's not always about what you've done. But more so what you've done lately. My goal is to cement a legacy that no one will surpass and when I rejoin the Triad I dare say it won't be topped. The power of the Triad itself will be shared here…amongst us all."
Penelope gestures around them to the Hotel at large.
"Greed is quite the sin…and there are a few here who would be quite displeased were I merely to hoard it away for myself. I'm not Gollum after all."
She laughs in a flirty manner and playfully smacks him on the upper arm.
"No…The Hotel California is the only suitable place to both house and contain something of such immense power. I'm sure once it's in my possession there will no doubt be many who will seek to take it from me. You'll find our security would be more than a match for anyone foolish enough to attempt it. We've spared no expense."
“Mhm,” Welsh mulls over what he’s just heard. He takes a sip of his drink and rotates his head, stretching the tightened muscles in his neck. He speaks through a forced smile, “The thing is…I’m not in this for the sport. I don’t even care about the historical significance that’s at stake. I want the power. I want the Triad. So, if you were to draft you and you were to unite the Triad…how would you feel about…” he pauses for a moment, he smiles, but his words are anything but friendly, “giving it to me.”
Penelope pauses for a moment, taking another sip of her drink.
"I see…so, I would merely be a tool that would be discarded once my usefulness was over is it? Well, I can definitely understand and respect your lust for power. You certainly couldn't have gotten to where you are now without knowing what you want, and taking it. But, and I apologize for my boldness here, I would strongly suggest you rethink that particular strategy Mr. Welsh."
She closes the distance between them, without losing her gaze with him.
"I can guarantee that you wouldn't like the outcome very much. And I don't say that flippantly either. I am not the only one in this establishment who wishes for the Traid to remain here. They, much like yourself, always get what they want…"
The smile she returns him is almost a mirrored image of his own. The ambient noise surrounding them falls into complete silence, and you can see that everyone else in the lobby has stopped in their tracks. They all are staring in a most uncomfortable way at Marcus.
Welsh feels it. He sees the line crossing through the middle of his feet. So, he takes a step back, “Fair enough.” He flashes a more natural smile, throwing a wink along for presentation. He looks Penelope up and down, “You really think you’re brave enough to handle what awaits?”
Before Penelope speaks, she takes another sip of her drink. As if on cue, the guests and staff in the lobby once again resume their previous activities.
"Mr. Welsh…I have seen things you couldn't possibly imagine. Things I doubt you could even describe. I had something forcibly taken from me that I can't ever get back. Something that changed the very core of who I am as a human being. I wasn't given a choice…but I had two very clear paths to walk that were set before me. I could have chosen the easy way, one filled with self-pity, loathing, regret, and self-destruction. Instead, I chose to turn that incident into the launching pad of the woman you see before you today."
Penelope gives a little smirk of self-satisfaction at where she finds herself in her life this far.
"I took this…curse, and turned it into a gift. I am now a creature driven by conviction instead of controlled by fear. There is nothing, on this world or the next, that will stop me from getting what I want."
Welsh sees the conviction in her eyes. The unshakable belief that she can attain whatever she sets her sights toward. He reaches out, gently grabbing her by the arm, “I can respect that. You’ve got something about you…might be bravery. Or, it could be arrogance.”
Welsh side eyes the hotel, making sure the attention hasn’t returned solely to his existence. “Whatever it may be, it’s interesting. And the fact you’ve gone through these lengths to make me feel comfortable is appreciated. I’d like to go so far and say it’s enough to guarantee you a spot on my team. However, as ambitious as you may be, I’m equally so. I’ve got my goals and I will not let anyone get in my way.”
He slides his hand from her arm and takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Penelope while keeping tabs on the entire hotel, curious, maybe even anxious to see what response he gets. He breathes a small inward sigh of relief when a heartbeat or two passes and there is no repeat of what happened moments prior.
"Oh, I'm sure a man in your position has many goals. Always reaching, ever further…like rungs on a ladder. Never fully satisfied with each step you take either I'd wager. You know who you remind me of Mr. Welsh? Icarus…the son of Daedalus, who had constructed the labyrinth in Crete. When Thesus the King of Athens escaped, King Minos accused the father and son of giving him the secrets to do so. As punishment they were locked in a large tower…"
Penelope takes another sip and continues with her story.
"To escape, Daedalus constructed wings for each of them…feathers, bits of clothing, blanket thread and beeswax. He warned his son, not to fly too low lest the dampness of the nearby sea clog up his wings. He also warned against flying too high, lest the heat from the sun melt them. Icarus, in his arrogance, ignored his father and did indeed fly too close. The resulting heat from the sun, melting the beeswax, and sending poor Icarus plunging downward into the ocean where he subsequently drowned."
She pauses for a moment before returning her gaze to Marcus directly. There is a look in her eyes not there prior, and it's hard to make out what exactly is causing it.
"Sometimes goals are best left just out of reach…so they can be used safely for motivation and not the satisfaction of completion. I would hate to see someone as successful and headstrong as you succumb to your own blinding greed and ambition. None of you have any idea what sort of power the Triad truely possess. And yet you naively assume that despite not being worthy enough to place it together, individually one of you would somehow be strong enough to control it?"
She snickers, shaking her head every so slightly in a somewhat amused fashion. It stings. Welsh doesn’t like it but there’s not much he can do about it. He forces a smile and finishes his drink, placing it on a nearby surface.
“Noted.” He wipes his hand against the side of his pants and looks around, “Is there a shop around here where I can get some accessories? Clothing, maybe?”
Penelope nods toward the suitcase he’s been toting.
“Oh, no….that’s just full of notes.” She raises an eyebrow. “I’m leaving no stone unturned during this draft process, trust me.” Welsh continues looking around, “So, you wanna walk me to my room? Maybe give me a rundown of this place? The vibe I’m getting is this isn’t exactly a Hilton or Marriott.”
Penelope looks over at a young steward who happens to be walking by. She motions towards Welsh's suitcase as she grabs his empty glass.
"Would you get one of the bellhops to take this up to Mr. Welsh's suite please? Oh, and can you give these back to Issac to wash up with our thanks?"
She polishes off her own drink, handing the man both glasses. He smiles with a nod and walks off, snapping his fingers. An older man in a vintage bellhop outfit comes over, taking Welsh's suitcase and quickly heading for the elevator.
"No sense dragging that cumbersome thing along with you, is there? Now then…if you were after some more, interesting little trinkets we do have a small gift shop just past the reception desk. However, you'll find any number of quaint clothing shops on the block if you decide to venture out. Just there we have our in-house dining room."
Penelope gestures just off to the left towards a large set of ornate double doors. An old-fashioned black sign with those adjustable little white letters displayed the times for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
"That's usually where we hold our annual Christmas / New Year's Eve feasts. They are always such fun, especially when Charlotte and I finish decorating the place. If you want to hold any events in house…interviews, press events, etc…we can arrange for some canapes and finger foods to be available."
She motions for him to follow her as she turns around heading towards another set of doors behind them and just past the large staircase in the lobby.
"In here is our multi function room…and I think you'll find it's quite…"
She pushes open the doors enough for them to walk through. A deceptively large open plan room lays before them, with shining hardwood floors. There is another small bar inside on the far wall, and up the back a small stage. Along the opposite wall are stacks of chairs, alongside folding tables.
"...adequate."
She smiles and crosses her arms as she proudly shows off the room to her guest.
"And you're right…The Hotel California isn't the Hyatt, the Hilton, or the Marriott. I prefer to think we're more like the Overlook."
She lets out a laugh.
"But don't worry, we don't have a spooky hedge maze or ax welding psychos running around. We don't even have any twin ghosts that I'm aware of…though I have heard children's laughter from time to time."
Welsh eyes Penelope. He slowly removes a notepad from his pocket and begins to take notes. “Mhm,” he twirls his pen around and taps it against the pad, closing the ink tip. “Alright well we’re eleven days out from the draft and I’ve got a lot of work to do. The Bermuda Triangle awaits and I need to make sure I have the four bravest wrestlers on my team that I can draft. You’ve made a strong impression, no doubt. Unfortunately, since you can’t commit to me, I can’t commit to you. However…that doesn’t mean we won’t eventually reach common ground.”
Penelope smiles again, perhaps knowing that answer was coming. Or perhaps, debating internally whether that last barb was baiting another hook as opposed to an honest assessment of the situation.
"I'm sure that we will at some point…and, after all, there are two more of you involved in this little escapade, aren't there. I think the thing you need to be asking yourself is would you rather have me with you…or against you?"
Welsh nods. He hadn’t entertained that notion. She walks back towards Marcus, her hand gently resting on his shoulder as she pauses before completely walking past him.
"Because Mr. Walsh…I will end up being drafted, and when all this insanity is over I will be reuniting the three pieces of the Triad. Whether you share in that glorious moment of history well, that's entirely up to you…"
She gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze for emphasis as walks out of the room. She calls back over her shoulder.
"Feel free to look around, the guest areas are clearly marked. You’ve got your room key. Head on up whenever you're ready."
Marcus stands still in the large room, his head cocked ever so slightly over his left shoulder as he listens to the click of her heels fade away. There's another click, this time from his pen, as he begins to scribble more notes in his pad. He turns on his heels, walking and writing as he exits the room, pulling the doors shut behind him.
The people entering and exiting all blend together. They mean nothing to us, save for one. Marcus Welsh steps out of an Uber. He grabs his bag from the trunk.
“Five stars,” He holds up five fingers to the Uber driver as if he can’t understand him.
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” the driver responds in perfect English.
Welsh drags his bag into the hotel. He pauses, looking around, taking in the air. He allows a smile to run across his face, “Finally. Back where I belong.”
He locates the front desk and drags his suitcase in that direction. The hotel seems properly staffed, so he walks right up.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“Yea, Marcus Welsh, checking in, you might have heard of me,” he drops that last bit while casually looking away and brushing some imaginary debris off his t-shirt.
The clerk no-sells the remark, typing away. Welsh pulls up his phone and sees the driver came through with that five-star review. He sneers, “Car smelled like tuna sandwich.” He drops a three-star review for the driver.
“Okay, I have you down here for an extended stay in one of our suites.”
Welsh looks up, making eye contact with the clerk. “I mean, naturally.”
A moment passes. They both look at each other.
“I believe Penelope is taking care of my arrangements,” he whispers, leaning in.
“Yessir, it shows here that it’s all been taken care of.”
“Great!” Welsh taps the counter. “Oh, one more thing…”
“Yes?”
“I heard Jason Cashe stayed here recently…”
“Actually...”
Welsh doesn't let the clerk finish. “I'd like the suite that is physically,” he takes both arms and points in a far-off direction in an exaggerated motion, “as far away from where he stayed as possible.”
The clerk stares at Welsh and his over-the-top mannerisms for a moment. You hear a feminine laugh from behind him followed by a third voice entering the conversation.
"Jason Cashe wishes he stayed inside this Hotel…"
Walsh turns and sees Penelope as she casually slides up to the reception desk, a cocktail glass in her hand. She's dressed to impress as one would expect (you would hope) as she smiles at her guest.
"We had another…mm dignitary, you could say, who wished to see live wrestling here on the grounds. Jason was game…until we introduced the bear…"
She cackles, obviously remembering the ensuing shenanigans quite clearly.
"I dare say I've never seen a man run that fast in all my life. But after the ensuing damage, he has been banned from stepping foot on the grounds so you needn't worry."
She casually takes a sip of her drink.
"Oh, but where are my manners…allow me to introduce myself. Penelope, future Triad reassembler..."
She sets down her glass on the reception desk and holds out her hand. Welsh straightens his posture and takes Penelope’s hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I really appreciate you setting me up…this place looks great. And, I’m not gonna say this has any influence over my draft day decisions…” He leans in and smiles, “But it doesn’t hurt.”
Welsh laughs. The clerk hands him his key. He takes it and slaps the clerk's hand away, keeping his focus on Penelope. “So, what you got going on in that glass there?”
"Oh this? Our bartender Issac whips up the best Harvey Wallbangers this side of the pacific."
Penelope takes her glass and raises it with a nod behind Marcus. He turns following her gaze across the lobby to the bar. A young, 30ish black man smiles back at Penelope and gives her a double point with his fingers. With his afro, sideburns, and substantial mustache he looks to be about 50 years out of date style-wise. Marcus does a double take, making sure it isn't Ted Lange tending the bar. When Marcus turns back Penelope has a second glass in her hand which he is certain hadn't been in her possession a moment ago.
"Care for a drink?"
She smiles, almost to the point where it's creepy but just held off enough to allay any fears, as she presents the glass to him.
“Don’t mind if I do. The first-class accommodations were okay, plane was kind of small, to be honest. Little cramped. Plus, ya know, people, right? So many idiots around me. Nice to finally kick back and relax.”
Welsh takes the offered drink and engages in a sophisticated toast with Penelope. They take a walk from the desk, toward the bar, “So, Penelope, you seem like an ambitious person. What would you do with something as powerful as The Triad?”
"First let me apologize, I had given instructions that I was assured was crystal clear that you would be treated as a VIP. That should have included the airfare, so I will make sure to rectify that myself once your stay with us has ended."
Her smile had momentarily slipped off after hearing about the less-than-adequate air travel the Hotel had booked for Marcus. But she pulls it back up as she switches topics.
"Ambitious to a fault you could say…but I've discovered in this business, it's not always about what you've done. But more so what you've done lately. My goal is to cement a legacy that no one will surpass and when I rejoin the Triad I dare say it won't be topped. The power of the Triad itself will be shared here…amongst us all."
Penelope gestures around them to the Hotel at large.
"Greed is quite the sin…and there are a few here who would be quite displeased were I merely to hoard it away for myself. I'm not Gollum after all."
She laughs in a flirty manner and playfully smacks him on the upper arm.
"No…The Hotel California is the only suitable place to both house and contain something of such immense power. I'm sure once it's in my possession there will no doubt be many who will seek to take it from me. You'll find our security would be more than a match for anyone foolish enough to attempt it. We've spared no expense."
“Mhm,” Welsh mulls over what he’s just heard. He takes a sip of his drink and rotates his head, stretching the tightened muscles in his neck. He speaks through a forced smile, “The thing is…I’m not in this for the sport. I don’t even care about the historical significance that’s at stake. I want the power. I want the Triad. So, if you were to draft you and you were to unite the Triad…how would you feel about…” he pauses for a moment, he smiles, but his words are anything but friendly, “giving it to me.”
Penelope pauses for a moment, taking another sip of her drink.
"I see…so, I would merely be a tool that would be discarded once my usefulness was over is it? Well, I can definitely understand and respect your lust for power. You certainly couldn't have gotten to where you are now without knowing what you want, and taking it. But, and I apologize for my boldness here, I would strongly suggest you rethink that particular strategy Mr. Welsh."
She closes the distance between them, without losing her gaze with him.
"I can guarantee that you wouldn't like the outcome very much. And I don't say that flippantly either. I am not the only one in this establishment who wishes for the Traid to remain here. They, much like yourself, always get what they want…"
The smile she returns him is almost a mirrored image of his own. The ambient noise surrounding them falls into complete silence, and you can see that everyone else in the lobby has stopped in their tracks. They all are staring in a most uncomfortable way at Marcus.
Welsh feels it. He sees the line crossing through the middle of his feet. So, he takes a step back, “Fair enough.” He flashes a more natural smile, throwing a wink along for presentation. He looks Penelope up and down, “You really think you’re brave enough to handle what awaits?”
Before Penelope speaks, she takes another sip of her drink. As if on cue, the guests and staff in the lobby once again resume their previous activities.
"Mr. Welsh…I have seen things you couldn't possibly imagine. Things I doubt you could even describe. I had something forcibly taken from me that I can't ever get back. Something that changed the very core of who I am as a human being. I wasn't given a choice…but I had two very clear paths to walk that were set before me. I could have chosen the easy way, one filled with self-pity, loathing, regret, and self-destruction. Instead, I chose to turn that incident into the launching pad of the woman you see before you today."
Penelope gives a little smirk of self-satisfaction at where she finds herself in her life this far.
"I took this…curse, and turned it into a gift. I am now a creature driven by conviction instead of controlled by fear. There is nothing, on this world or the next, that will stop me from getting what I want."
Welsh sees the conviction in her eyes. The unshakable belief that she can attain whatever she sets her sights toward. He reaches out, gently grabbing her by the arm, “I can respect that. You’ve got something about you…might be bravery. Or, it could be arrogance.”
Welsh side eyes the hotel, making sure the attention hasn’t returned solely to his existence. “Whatever it may be, it’s interesting. And the fact you’ve gone through these lengths to make me feel comfortable is appreciated. I’d like to go so far and say it’s enough to guarantee you a spot on my team. However, as ambitious as you may be, I’m equally so. I’ve got my goals and I will not let anyone get in my way.”
He slides his hand from her arm and takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Penelope while keeping tabs on the entire hotel, curious, maybe even anxious to see what response he gets. He breathes a small inward sigh of relief when a heartbeat or two passes and there is no repeat of what happened moments prior.
"Oh, I'm sure a man in your position has many goals. Always reaching, ever further…like rungs on a ladder. Never fully satisfied with each step you take either I'd wager. You know who you remind me of Mr. Welsh? Icarus…the son of Daedalus, who had constructed the labyrinth in Crete. When Thesus the King of Athens escaped, King Minos accused the father and son of giving him the secrets to do so. As punishment they were locked in a large tower…"
Penelope takes another sip and continues with her story.
"To escape, Daedalus constructed wings for each of them…feathers, bits of clothing, blanket thread and beeswax. He warned his son, not to fly too low lest the dampness of the nearby sea clog up his wings. He also warned against flying too high, lest the heat from the sun melt them. Icarus, in his arrogance, ignored his father and did indeed fly too close. The resulting heat from the sun, melting the beeswax, and sending poor Icarus plunging downward into the ocean where he subsequently drowned."
She pauses for a moment before returning her gaze to Marcus directly. There is a look in her eyes not there prior, and it's hard to make out what exactly is causing it.
"Sometimes goals are best left just out of reach…so they can be used safely for motivation and not the satisfaction of completion. I would hate to see someone as successful and headstrong as you succumb to your own blinding greed and ambition. None of you have any idea what sort of power the Triad truely possess. And yet you naively assume that despite not being worthy enough to place it together, individually one of you would somehow be strong enough to control it?"
She snickers, shaking her head every so slightly in a somewhat amused fashion. It stings. Welsh doesn’t like it but there’s not much he can do about it. He forces a smile and finishes his drink, placing it on a nearby surface.
“Noted.” He wipes his hand against the side of his pants and looks around, “Is there a shop around here where I can get some accessories? Clothing, maybe?”
Penelope nods toward the suitcase he’s been toting.
“Oh, no….that’s just full of notes.” She raises an eyebrow. “I’m leaving no stone unturned during this draft process, trust me.” Welsh continues looking around, “So, you wanna walk me to my room? Maybe give me a rundown of this place? The vibe I’m getting is this isn’t exactly a Hilton or Marriott.”
Penelope looks over at a young steward who happens to be walking by. She motions towards Welsh's suitcase as she grabs his empty glass.
"Would you get one of the bellhops to take this up to Mr. Welsh's suite please? Oh, and can you give these back to Issac to wash up with our thanks?"
She polishes off her own drink, handing the man both glasses. He smiles with a nod and walks off, snapping his fingers. An older man in a vintage bellhop outfit comes over, taking Welsh's suitcase and quickly heading for the elevator.
"No sense dragging that cumbersome thing along with you, is there? Now then…if you were after some more, interesting little trinkets we do have a small gift shop just past the reception desk. However, you'll find any number of quaint clothing shops on the block if you decide to venture out. Just there we have our in-house dining room."
Penelope gestures just off to the left towards a large set of ornate double doors. An old-fashioned black sign with those adjustable little white letters displayed the times for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
"That's usually where we hold our annual Christmas / New Year's Eve feasts. They are always such fun, especially when Charlotte and I finish decorating the place. If you want to hold any events in house…interviews, press events, etc…we can arrange for some canapes and finger foods to be available."
She motions for him to follow her as she turns around heading towards another set of doors behind them and just past the large staircase in the lobby.
"In here is our multi function room…and I think you'll find it's quite…"
She pushes open the doors enough for them to walk through. A deceptively large open plan room lays before them, with shining hardwood floors. There is another small bar inside on the far wall, and up the back a small stage. Along the opposite wall are stacks of chairs, alongside folding tables.
"...adequate."
She smiles and crosses her arms as she proudly shows off the room to her guest.
"And you're right…The Hotel California isn't the Hyatt, the Hilton, or the Marriott. I prefer to think we're more like the Overlook."
She lets out a laugh.
"But don't worry, we don't have a spooky hedge maze or ax welding psychos running around. We don't even have any twin ghosts that I'm aware of…though I have heard children's laughter from time to time."
Welsh eyes Penelope. He slowly removes a notepad from his pocket and begins to take notes. “Mhm,” he twirls his pen around and taps it against the pad, closing the ink tip. “Alright well we’re eleven days out from the draft and I’ve got a lot of work to do. The Bermuda Triangle awaits and I need to make sure I have the four bravest wrestlers on my team that I can draft. You’ve made a strong impression, no doubt. Unfortunately, since you can’t commit to me, I can’t commit to you. However…that doesn’t mean we won’t eventually reach common ground.”
Penelope smiles again, perhaps knowing that answer was coming. Or perhaps, debating internally whether that last barb was baiting another hook as opposed to an honest assessment of the situation.
"I'm sure that we will at some point…and, after all, there are two more of you involved in this little escapade, aren't there. I think the thing you need to be asking yourself is would you rather have me with you…or against you?"
Welsh nods. He hadn’t entertained that notion. She walks back towards Marcus, her hand gently resting on his shoulder as she pauses before completely walking past him.
"Because Mr. Walsh…I will end up being drafted, and when all this insanity is over I will be reuniting the three pieces of the Triad. Whether you share in that glorious moment of history well, that's entirely up to you…"
She gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze for emphasis as walks out of the room. She calls back over her shoulder.
"Feel free to look around, the guest areas are clearly marked. You’ve got your room key. Head on up whenever you're ready."
Marcus stands still in the large room, his head cocked ever so slightly over his left shoulder as he listens to the click of her heels fade away. There's another click, this time from his pen, as he begins to scribble more notes in his pad. He turns on his heels, walking and writing as he exits the room, pulling the doors shut behind him.