Demons and Diners

Cages and Corridors

I have to say, my expectations for the scary boss-man are not met. I'm standing in a brightly-lit room with a white desk and grey spinny chair, which is currently occupied by a guy not much older than me. His hair is black and draped across his forehead, matching the skinny jeans I'm only able to see because he's leaned back - glad he's so relaxed...I can feel the pit of my stomach sinking lower and lower as he continues to stare at me, expression annoyingly neutral.

I drop my eyes to the carpet - I'm not used to being the center of attention for so long. But he doesn't say anything, and his...who are these guys, security guards or something? They hardly look the part. They start to shift uncomfortably behind me.

"Peej, Chris, I'll take it from here," the man finally speaks, and his voice is low and surprisingly soft. They don't object, vacating the room and shutting the door behind them. I lift my eyes to see the man's stood up now, and he walks around to the front of his desk. As he leans against it, I notice he's almost as tall as I am, perhaps the same height when I'm slouched a bit - and really, I slouch more often than not. Height is not an advantage when trying to remain unnoticed.

"Well?" The man crosses his arms, and I'm surprised to notice he's wearing a rather unassuming maroon button-down shirt. Nothing fancy, or evil, or really anything I'd expect of a mob boss - because at this point, what else could he be? - frankly, this guy is so far from what I expected that I can't even form thoughts, let alone words to answer his question.

After a long, tense moment, I realize I'm staring at his chest, so I drop my eyes again. "I, uh..." I attempt, but nothing comes out to fill the silence, and it sits in the air.

"You, uh?" He asks, and I look up to see his eyebrows raised, corner of his lips lifted in amusement. "Did Elizabeth send you?" My face scrunches in confusion, and that must be enough for him. He pushes off the desk and returns to his chair, spinning to face his laptop.

"Uh...can I...leave?" I ask after a long moment of silence - I'm thoroughly unsure what's going on at this point. Usually, the boss will take up an hour threatening to kill me, maybe some goons will rough me up, I'll take it quietly, and I'll have to lay low for weeks to avoid literally getting shot.

"No," the man hasn't moved, still typing, and his tone is deadpan serious. I wait, confused again, and am just about to speak when he swivels to face me. "You entered of your own accord, so I can't hold you here. But you can't go back to the city you came from, not for..." he pauses, checking a watch I didn't notice a few moments ago, "another six months, give or take," I think my jaw drops.

It must have, because he gives something like a sympathetic smile. "You're welcome to leave," he continues, "but I don't think you'll like what you find out there, not right now," I recall the blackness that had swirled outside the door, and an involuntary shudder runs through me.

"Where the hell am I supposed to go? Where the hell are we, even?" I can't keep the panic from my voice. "What the fuck do you mean I can't go back for six months?" I realize I'm shouting, asking questions, generally breaking every rule in the book for how to talk to the guy in charge, but this is all...too much.

The man sighs audibly, then gestures to the chair - had that been there a minute ago? My brain hurts too much to think, so I plop down, awaiting further commentary.

"Let's try to do this in logical order. Where are you? My diner. What do I mean when I say you can't go home for six months?"

"Not my home," I mumble, then clamp a hand over my mouth. Good going, you broke another cardinal rule - never talk over the boss.

"Pardon?" he asks, and I shrink in my seat, lowering my head.

"The city, it's, uh, not my home," I say, offering no further elaboration. I glance up to find the man simply nodding before he continues.

"You can't return to that city for six months because it's not on the schedule. This place, it moves of its own accord. We don't expect it to return there for that long, at least. You can certainly attempt to leave, through the aether - that darkness, outside," he amends when I look confused.

My heart races just considering the darkness, and I hear a soft chuckle from the man.

"Right, so definitely not that, then," he's smiling, and he almost looks...beautiful? I shake my head to chase the thought away, and he interprets it as a confirmation. "To your other question - where to go? You're welcome to stay here, of course, but I'll have to put you to work."

Though I'm not really shocked, my discomfort at his requirement - and fear at what he might mean by work - must show on my face. This is much more in line with what I expected. He laughs, and I can't decide if that's meant to assuage my concern or frighten me even more.

"Whatever it is you're thinking, it's not that bad. You're in luck, Jainie just quit and I need a new waitress. Waiter," he corrects, eyes drifting down for a moment. Is he...embarrassed? I try not to smile, but I can't fight the slight tug at the corners of my mouth, so I drop my head. So much for the big, bad boss man.

He clears his throat to continue. "Anyway, I'll get PJ to set you up in a staff room and get you on the schedule. You're welcome to stop in the kitchen whenever you're hungry, Louise will keep you fed," he smiles softly, and he looks...really kind. I'm startled from my reverie by a knock on the door, and one of the guys from earlier steps inside.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," I mumble, standing from my chair to follow the guy - who must be PJ - to wherever it is I'll be staying.

"No problem - what, uh, should I call you?" I'm surprised by the lack of surety in his voice. It's rather calming, given the strangeness of my situation.

"Dan," I nod, and he smiles wide.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dan. You can call me Phil. I look forward to seeing you around," He smiles brightly, then turns back toward his laptop and PJ gestures at me. Despite the rollercoaster running through my head, I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks, and I smile just a bit as I turn away.

"Dan, is it?" The guy shakes my hand and we start walking down the corridor. I barely nod, shaking the errant thoughts of Phil from my mind, before he continues. "PJ, Phil's right-hand man and manager of this dump," he smiles, though, and I assume he doesn't mean it - the place actually looked fairly nice, from my brief foray into the front of the diner. "Dunno why he didn't kick you out on your arse, but he must've kept you around for a reason. Right through here," he points to a door, one of the ones I'd passed in my attempted escape.

I try not to think much on what he meant about keeping me, but it seems I don't have to try hard because the door opens into an impossibly long hallway and my thoughts are tossed out in favor of shock. "How..." I can't finish the question, as PJ slides past me and marches off down the hall. There is no way the building has space for a corridor like this...

I trudge behind him, my mouth gaping open as I pass door after door. Most are labeled with names I don't recognize, though I do see a Chris, then a PJ, then a Louise - the chef, right? I almost pause as I pass the door labeled Phil. I start counting, catching up with PJ as he stands in front of what must be my room. Four doors, I make the mental note.

"Alright, so this one's you," as he says it, the placard on the door shimmers slightly, then reflects my own name. "Welcome home!" He chuckles, "one of us will get you tomorrow, show you around," he adds, then retreats back down the hall as I stare at the door. What the fuck is going on...the literal magic that just happened in front of my face is too much for my already-overwhelmed brain, so I open the door.

The room is cozy, small but not uncomfortably so. A twin bed is pushed up against the corner, a wooden desk on the opposite side, and a wardrobe right next to the doorway. I remove my backpack, hanging it over the chair by the desk, and marvel for a moment at the bed. It's been...far too long since I had a proper one of those.

I collapse onto it unceremoniously and - despite the thoughts racing through my brain, despite my need to unravel and analyze the whole situation - fall into a dreamless sleep.