onebehind | magician's apprentice | been a hell of a ride but I'm thinking it's time to grow

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magician's apprentice | been a hell of a ride but I'm thinking it's time to grow

Dylan knew, coming out of the hospital if not going in, that getting sober wasn't going to be easy. He knew he'd have bad days and good days and days in between, and every therapist he's seen since then, every meeting he's been to has only reaffirmed that. They'd also armed him with a bag of tricks to deal with everything and everything in between, but -- well, today is one of the bad ones and nothing is helping. He's been pacing the house like a madman for the better part of the day, trying to find something to hold his attention long enough that he can stop thinking about running down to the nearest liquor store. He needs to get out of his skin. He's just shy of calling his sponsor. He needs to get out of the house.

He needs to get out of the house.

Stopping midway through moving a pile of books from one side of the living room to the other, he latches onto that idea and turns it over in his head. He needs to get out of the house.

He's moving again a second later, though this time, it's with a purpose, a clarity he hasn't felt like he's had in hours, days, weeks. He goes to Jack's room, tapping lightly on the door, and then after a beat and once he's been invited in, sticks his head in. Flashing him a smile that's equal parts reassuring and strained (he's fine, they're fine, this is nothing bad, he's just a little jittery, don't mind him), he tells him, "Hey. Pack your shit."

He has an idea. It'll be good for both of them.

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Jack pauses at that. "Oh, no." Well now he feels a little dumb. "I just knew people at school liked them, so I kinda figured..."

He trails off with a shrug. He hasn't really had the privilege of paying much attention to brands - or if he did own something of a brand it was either secondhand or a knock-off.

The big name stores around Times Square usually paid too much attention to him to risk shoplifting from them.

Dylan makes a face, mostly at himself. "Sorry. I wasn't ... "

He didn't mean to make Jack feel dumb. He was just trying to point out why it didn't bother him as much to see 'American' companies here.

Jack shakes his head. "No, it's okay." He's a teenager, anyway, he's used to feeling a little dumb. "I shoulda guessed anyway considering how many brands come from Japan."

As far as cars and technology go, anyway.

He nods, satisfied. "Not a whole lot's made in America, anymore."

If he plans on elaborating on that, however, the thought evaporates as they reach what appears to be the hotel. The building is impossibly tall, though perhaps shorter than some of the hotels in Vegas, but like Dylan said, he's going for comfort over flashiness. Either way, he holds the door open for Jack, then follows him into the lobby.

The floor is dark, polished wood, a sharp contrast to the white marble walls. Above the desk, also done up in dark wood, are two crystal chandeliers, set into a tray ceiling, and Dylan takes a moment to take this in before heading for the desk. A receptionist smiles at them as they approach, and Dylan keeps himself as a conduit for translation as he speaks to her.

"Welcome to the Hotel Royal, Mister Shrike. Checking in?"

He glances back at Jack, then nods. "I need two rooms for the night."

"Of course," she answers, already busying herself on the computer in front of her. "If you'll just give me a moment.

Jack steps through the open door, moving to the side to wait for Dylan and falling into step with him as they head for the desk. He blinks a little when the woman already knows his name - though he probably shouldn't be surprised considering magic.

While the receptionist works, he looks around, gawking a little. It's not that he's never been inside a nice hotel, but he was usually getting weird looks when he was, and he never has actually stayed at one. He's never been just another guest.

Jack doesn't go far from Dylan, still a little nervous - but something does catch his eye, and he turns around, tilting his head as he considers a shape he can make out. He gives Dylan a little mental hey and then gestures with a nod to what he's looking at.

It's a little hard to make out, at first, which is why he wants to make sure that he's seeing what he thinks he is: a stylized eye of Horus, set in some of the trim of some nearby woodwork.

Dylan turns at the mental nudge, following his eyes to the woodwork. It doesn't take him long to spot what Jack is looking at, and he smiles slyly when he does. Casting a surreptitious look at Jack, like they actually need to be subtle about it, he nods slightly.

Yes, Jack, that is what you think it is.

Dylan's smile is sly, Jack just beams, bouncing a little, both that he found it and that it was what he thought it was. Has he mentioned all this is awesome? Because holy shit is it awesome.

Dylan grins outright when Jack does. "We'll have to spend a couple of nights somewhere, so you can get the full effect."

Alas, Jack won't get to see much of an Eye hotel in just one night.

"Though, uh. If you wanna look around for a minute ... " He's not going to stop him. Dylan still has paperwork to sign and all, and the hotel is safe enough considering who it's owned by.

Jack's excitement is still palpable - literally, for Dylan - and he nods. "Yeah, please. I'm guessing there's Eye places like... everywhere?"

Based on the fact that the network exists, that it can get them so many different places, he's assuming those different places would also need hotels catering to the Eye's members. Or, well. If not all of them, at least a lot of them.

He pauses a beat, obviously debating how comfortable he feels leaving Dylan's side - but then nods. It's not like he'll be going that far or off to wander around Macau on his own or anything. It's not like Dylan's going to leave him. "Yeah, okay," he says finally - and then he does step away in earnest, to take that look around.

"The Eye has place everywhere," Dylan confirms.

Something softer follows, mentally passed along the connection as Jack debates going to go look around. It's fine. It's safe. He belongs here. He'll come get him when he's done with the check in process. It probably won't even be that interesting, anyway, because it's just a hotel.

And really, on the surface, that seems to be true. There are vague hints of something greater in the lobby and the adjoining breakfast nook, but nothing overly blatant. They have to pretend to be normal on the surface, for people who aren't in the know, after all.

It may just be a hotel, but Jack hasn't even had that much experience with "normal" hotels, let alone ones catering to a secret organization he's maybe a part of.

The reassurance helps, anyway, and Jack wanders away from Dylan, toward the breakfast area. There's not much there right now, the bones of that morning's service waiting for the next day's. He looks over some of the artwork, trying now to see if he can find anymore of those hints of something beyond the norm. He doesn't find much, though, and he moves on to the view through the windows - and then finds some tourism guides laid out on a table, some of which are actually in English, and he picks one up to flip through it. It's likely to hold his attention until Dylan's done checking them in.

After a minute or two, Dylan pads over to him. He peers over his shoulder for a moment, trying to decide what Jack found. When Jack turns his attentions to him, he takes a half-step back and holds out one of the keycards.

"Adjoining rooms." Then, "Trade you?"

For his brochure.

Jack hands off the brochure - just a small booklet featuring some restaurants, shopping areas, and historical sites around the city - and takes the keycard, turning it over in his hand to look at the logo before he looks back up at Dylan. "What floor are we on?"

He's lowkey hoping for a higher floor for the view, but he won't be disappoint with wherever they are.

Dylan squints at the brochure, and then, "29th. I figured you'd wanna be up high, so you could look at shit."

The elevator ride, once they get on it, won't feel like it takes that long, however. Blame the subtle magic of the hotel.

"Awesome," Jack returns by way of agreement.

He moves into the elevator to lean back against the wall, expecting it to take some time - and then blinks when the doors reopen only a moment later to reveal their floor. "Whoa," he says, still grinning as he follows Dylan out of the elevator.

Part of him realizes he maybe shouldn't be this excited about a hotel - but he also can't help it.

Dylan doesn't seem awed, per se, when the doors open on their floor, but he does seem to be equal parts entertained and delighted. "Nice," he decides, that in mind. "I really wasn't looking forward to taking an elevator up that many floors."

Pausing at one end of the hallway, he checks the sign on the wall to see which way they need to go. Once he figures it out, he casts a glance over his shoulder at Jack, just to make sure he's still following, then heads the way they're meant to go. It's not long after that that Dylan finds their doors, and while he's not sure if that's somehow the magic of this place, too, he can't say he's not grateful for it. Between his mood and the hour back home and the magical heavy lifting, he's definitely feeling his exhaustion.

"You wanna keep the middle door open?" he asks, rather than heading straight in, however. He won't begrudge Jack if he wants his privacy, but he wouldn't mind leaving the door between their two rooms open.

Even in a magic hotel, there's not much to see in the hallway besides other doors, and Jack follows Dylan to theirs, adjusting his hold on his bag.

"Yeah, sure," he agrees easily as he reaches for his door and turns the handle - and despite the fact that he got distracted and didn't actually put the key to the pad, it opens easily. "Huh," he declares, still grinning as he steps inside.

He'll set his bag down and then unlock the adjoining door.

Dylan's door does likewise, and so does he, dropping his bag on the bed before he goes to open his side of the door. Once their spaces are connected, only then does he take a moment to look around.

For being a magic hotel, it's really not much, though that may be because Dylan opted for something simple, since they weren't staying more than a night. The dressing of the room matches the lobby downstairs, with its white walls and dark woods, though here they have the added bonus of blue linens. They both have king beds, and there's a kitchenette with a mini-fridge and a microwave and coffee maker tucked into one corner. The bathrooms are neat, but nothing special.

What is special about their rooms are the closets, which are much bigger than they have any right to be, and the floor to ceiling window that takes up the entirety of one of the walls, looking out over the city. Dylan drifts over to the one in Jack's room, notes the lack of any kind of drapery, and then smiles. There are no drapes, sure, but they're not being blasted by the early morning sun, either.

"Wonder if that's magic or some kinda window treatment."

Jack takes a moment of his own to look around his own room, taking stock of everything before moving to the windows. He glances at Dylan as he joins him and shrugs. "Uh... maybe some of both? I mean, like... there's no curtains at all? Even if they had some kind of tint on the outside, I feel like they'd still want people to have a way to cover them if they want to sleep during the day or something."

He doesn't mean in the sense that someone might see in, considering they're 29 floors up, but more that someone might want it darker than just a tint would allow.

"Good point," Dylan allows, though he still takes another several seconds to study the window, trying to figure it out.

He relents before too much longer, however, and with a sigh, takes a step back away from the window. A glance in the direction of his room follows. "You mind if I go start getting ready for bed?"

Jack looks back at him. "Oh, yeah, I was gonna crash, too."

He might not have done magical heavy lifting like Dylan, might have gotten a nap in on the ride, but he is still tired. It's been a long day, and it is late as far as their usual time zone is concerned.

"What time do you wanna get up again?"

He figures Dylan had planned for this trip to be most of their weekend, but he also doesn't really want to sleep through all of it. He'll let Dylan dictate how long they do sleep, though, since he's the one that needs it more.

Dylan takes a quick peek at his watch, still set to Pacific Standard Time, and does the math in his head. "I dunno. Like, seven, eight hours? If we're both up before that, I don't mind getting an earlier start, but we can aim for then."

Jack just nods agreement to that. "That works," he agrees. "Night, Dad," he offers before Dylan heads back to his room.

He, in turn, heads for his own bag, finding the pajamas he packed, as well as his toothbrush. He makes short work of getting ready for bed, turning off the lights and climbing in, adjusting so he can see out the window, to watch the city as he drifts off.

It's an hour or so later that he wakes up again, chased from sleep by a dream that wasn't quite a nightmare but still wasn't entirely pleasant - and for a moment, he doesn't know where he is. It's not quiet, but the sound is wrong, the traffic too distant, the movement of light and shadow on the walls different than he's used to. He lays in bed for several long moments, trying to settle again - but he can't stop focusing on the unfamiliar.

Finally, frustrated, he climbs out of the bed, padding over to peek through the door into Dylan's room. As far as he can tell, Dylan's asleep, and Jack moves silently to the armchair in the corner, climbing in and pulling his feet up to brace against the edge of the seat, resting his head against the corner of the chair's back and side.

The rhythm of Dylan's breathing - and being able to see him - is familiar enough to chase away his discomfort, and it's not long before he's out again.

As close as they've been mentally for the better part of their evening, Jack waking up is enough to bring Dylan a little closer to consciousness. It doesn't wake him, mind, but it's enough that his bladder can and does not long after Jack falls back asleep. He gets up then, padding into the bathroom to relieve himself, and when he returns, notices Jack's silhouette curled up in the chair, the room dark enough that it is just his shadow.

Rather than ponder the magic of the window, however, he studies Jack for a long moment instead. When he seems to reach some kind of conclusion, he moves over to him and reaches out mentally, gently, even as he nudges Jack's leg with his. He wants him awake, but not painfully so.

"Hey."

Jack doesn't startle awake, the combination of magical and physical nudges enough for him to just blink up at Dylan, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Hm?" he mutters - and then remembers what he relocated to Dylan's room. He drops his hand.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I wake you up?"

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