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"Are you certain? Have you been misinformed? I can assure you, we have a scheduled appointment at..." Horse Face checks his wristwatch. "...oh dear. In five minutes. Well, that's not terribly good, is it? Can I speak to your superior? I'm sure we can clear all of this up in a jiff, sir, if you'd—"
"No appointments. No <span class="mu-i">gawkers.</span>"
"Oh dear, dear, dear. Again, total misinformation. If I could have a word with you in private—" Horse Face raises his eyebrows at you and Gil. You both shuffle backwards, watching anxiously as Horse Face mutters at the guard, and the guard mutters back. After a minute, Horse Face reaches into his pocket and retrieves a number of colored rectangles of paper, which he passes into the guard's grip. The guard shoves his hand in his pocket. "Come in," he says, in the nicest tone you assume he can manage, and pushes the great door open.
You and Gil follow a self-satisfied Horse Face inside. <span class="mu-i">The guy must be loaded!</span> your thoughts whisper. <span class="mu-i">Forget goose legs— that bribe could buy a flock of geese! Imagine what filching his wallet would get you!</span>
The lodge inside is just the same as how it looks on the outside. The lobby is too big for how empty and quiet it is, but the crackling of a fireplace helps the ambiance, as does the airy scent of cedar. You lean over to Gil. "Uh... did you see that bribe? That was enough to buy..."
"His family's really rich," Gil whispers back. "That's how he gets away with so much—"
He stops himself, and after a second you spot why: there's only one person behind the overlong reception desk, but they're as snippy-looking as the guard was growly, and they're glaring right at the three of you. Their conversation partner might be glaring too, but you can't tell from the... sunglasses.
Sunglasses. And an expensive-looking camel-colored snow-dusted topcoat over a cold black suit. A straight nose and thin lips and sharp shoulders. Long fingers. Management, on the near side of the reception desk, might or might not be glaring—-but it is watching you intently. It is watching <span class="mu-i">you</span> intently.
You whir in place for a second or two before— before— Claudia! Before shoving Claudia to the forefront. <span class="mu-i">Rich asshole.</span> She sticks her tongue out.
Management does not react outwardly to the tongue. It turns away, speaks a few words to the receptionist, and walks over to the couches near the fireplace. It sits neatly upon one of them, pulls a pen out of its breast pocket, and begins twiddling it between its fingers. Horse Face, seeing this as an opportunity, rushes forward to take Management's place. "Greetings!"
You and Gil shuffle up behind him. (You throw glances back at Management, but it's still facing away, apparently disinterested.) The receptionist, in response, holds a finger to their lips. They click their own pen and scribble something out.
"We are under a vow of silence," their notepad reads, after they've pushed it toward you. "Please be respectful."
(3/5)
