wickedchouette | (no subject)

[The good news: they get out. They escape Norfinbury, and once they're out of the town's iron grip, all of its effects on them disappear - no more MN poisoning, no more radiation sickness. They're still malnourished and underfed, and the dead among them are still dead, but they're out.

The bad news? They can't go home yet.

It's some sort of time- and universe-travel issue, which Alfie honestly isn't even trying to understand in full. Using the town's power, they'd opened up a portal, but they hadn't had time to fine-tune it. When they'd all jumped through, they hadn't even been sure it would work - but with the town collapsing around them, they'd all been desperate enough to try anyway. It had ended up dumping them all at random into New York City - or some version of it, anyway - in the early twentieth century. Stark and the other tech wizards are working hard on the issue, pooling their knowledge and using this world's resources to figure out how to safely repair and direct the portal to send them all back home, or wherever else they want to go. The ones who can't help with that are, essentially, left to their own devices. Tony the billionaire sets them up in a nice hotel in a decent neighborhood, and provides them with enough money to live comfortably on as long as they don't go too crazy with spending. For Alfie, Royce, Emily, and Tifa, he's able to find a two-bedroom suite that's available to be rented by the month. Nobody knows how long they're going to be stuck, and nobody wants to take the chance of being left without lodging.

After all the trauma of the past few months and the chaos of the past few days, their little group isn't wild about splitting up even just for a few hours. But Emily desperately needs a doctor's checkup, and Tifa convinces Alfie and Royce to go ahead and scope out the room while she (with help and advice from the more modern doctors) takes her to a pediatrician. And so they go.

The hotel is towering, and looking up at it makes Alfie feel dizzy, so he focuses straight ahead as they approach the front entrance and its automatic revolving door. He has the envelope with their room number and key, and as they walk, he hands it to Royce.]

We're on the sixty-first floor - larger rooms at the top only. Fucking hell, I hope they've got a lift.

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[ Royce scowls at this. ]

No, you're just ridiculous. I barely want to speak to people normally, let alone to sing your praises. [ He's mostly kidding, and it's evident by his tone. ] I could try, I guess.

Tell them you have personally seen me stealing all the women from men around me. Very impressive.

[ ... Okay, now Royce snortlaughs and has to muffle it into the hood of his bathrobe. He's too drunk for this. ]

"That man there, yes, he fucks three women nightly, but surely he can fit you in."

[ And now he's not even bothering to hide his laughter. ]

Right. [ Royce stifles a drunken giggle into his sleeve. ] I'm not going to tell a woman that you could possibly fit in time to fuck her. I won't be slapped for you, Solomons.

Then what is the point of you?

[But he's grinning back.]

[ He tilts his head to look over at Alfie, grinning himself. ]

Moral support. [ That, in itself, is hilarious. ]

Verbal support. I got you to curse and talk about fucking, just now; I've got an influence over you.

It's the wine. [ Royce hums. ] I'm - definitely, uh. Intoxicated.

Yeah.

[Alfie lifts his bottle.]

So am I.

[But even though he's far from a heavy drinker - he actually doesn't drink very often at all, at home - he's still more used to being drunk than Royce is.]