hazel grouse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
churchbelle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dumbshow2015-02-22 11:18 pm
churchbelle) wrote in dumbshow2015-02-22 11:18 pm
Entry tags:
goldmine
[It's a credit to Hazel, he thinks (and says a few times), that he always finds the best hotel. Money isn't an issue, so of course he skips over every run down inn with leaky roofs and beds packed several to a room and finds the classier establishment. Then the classiest suite, with its own sitting room and a separate bedroom for each of them and very eager room service.
It's for show, of course; the finery entertains him for all of half an hour, maybe, before he's worn it out and falls back on his other vice - ordering a lot of wine up to the suite. In this latest hotel he's done just that, after dinner, and had enough wine and chattered on about enough nothing that he— honestly, he dozes off on the couch. The couch is very plush, alright, it's just so comfortable...
He's not even aware of dropping off to sleep, and so when he wakes a few hours later it's with a jolt of surprise. There's a blanket over him- he throws it aside- and Gat sitting in one of the armchairs opposite the couch. Sanzo, bless the man, is nowhere to be seen. Hazel looks at Gat, and his frown is all the question he needs—
"Downstairs."
And like that, Hazel is up and awake. He gives his clothes a cursory few tugs to straighten them out and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Then he leaves Gat to do... whatever it is Gat does when he's not right there, and heads for the ground floor. Sanzo isn't loitering in any lobby corners, so - the bar, surely.
There aren't many people in here at this hour, thankfully, or more witnesses might be there to see Hazel sidle up to the table and sit right down, leaning on his elbows like he's smooth and not someone who just fell asleep on a couch for a few hours.]
Mister Sanzo, ain't it gettin' a bit late?
It's for show, of course; the finery entertains him for all of half an hour, maybe, before he's worn it out and falls back on his other vice - ordering a lot of wine up to the suite. In this latest hotel he's done just that, after dinner, and had enough wine and chattered on about enough nothing that he— honestly, he dozes off on the couch. The couch is very plush, alright, it's just so comfortable...
He's not even aware of dropping off to sleep, and so when he wakes a few hours later it's with a jolt of surprise. There's a blanket over him- he throws it aside- and Gat sitting in one of the armchairs opposite the couch. Sanzo, bless the man, is nowhere to be seen. Hazel looks at Gat, and his frown is all the question he needs—
"Downstairs."
And like that, Hazel is up and awake. He gives his clothes a cursory few tugs to straighten them out and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Then he leaves Gat to do... whatever it is Gat does when he's not right there, and heads for the ground floor. Sanzo isn't loitering in any lobby corners, so - the bar, surely.
There aren't many people in here at this hour, thankfully, or more witnesses might be there to see Hazel sidle up to the table and sit right down, leaning on his elbows like he's smooth and not someone who just fell asleep on a couch for a few hours.]
Mister Sanzo, ain't it gettin' a bit late?