Demons and Diners

Doors and Decisions

The rest of the morning - or, really, the rest of the day - passes in a blur. We only pause our chair arranging to grab some food from Louise, who insists we taste-test all the appetizers for the evening. Chris sends me off before my shift, claiming PJ "might actually kill me" if I'm late. I try not to take his words too literally.

The diner's not all that crowded, as the lunch rush has ended, and - according to PJ - most of the patrons are aware that we'll be closed for the evening. I'm about fifteen minutes from clocking out when PJ pulls me aside.

"You'll be at the party tonight, right?" I'm not sure what kind of tone he's using, but it certainly isn't the 'hey bud, ya going to the fun party tonight?' kind, and I'm immediately on high alert.

"Yes..." I draw out the 's', but it sounds like I'm asking a question, so I amend. "Yeah, I'll be there, why? What's up?" But he doesn't answer, just nods.

"You can go get ready, if you'd like. I'll take care of table seven, but if I were you, I'd find Chris before he throws a fit." I'm about to ask why on earth Chris would be throwing a fit, but PJ spins me to face the back of the diner and gives me a gentle shove as he sets off toward the last occupied table.

I can feel the muscles in my brow cramping from being scrunched together, but the whole exchange was too confusing, and I can't seem to un-scrunch.

Until I'm grabbed by the shoulders and spun to face a very angry-looking Chris.

"Please tell me you're not wearing that to the party?" His grip isn't tight, but he looks very intimidating.

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Apparently, the whole place is set up on some kind of intranet, and Chris has me online and ordering some new clothes before I know what's happening. Also, it seems this is not my usual idea of a party - it is, in fact, a bit more upscale. I guess the ballroom should've tipped me off.

"Wendell's husband, Ollie, makes pretty much all the clothes here. I requested that we stop by to pick up a dress shirt and slacks for tonight, but the rest should be ready to pick up later this week." Chris informs me as we make our way from his room to the stairwell. The plan is to change there and head directly to the party, so he's already wearing his nice clothes.

I glance his way, trying to show I'm paying attention, when I see the flash of gold with PJ's name inscribed. Should I tell Chris what I saw last night? I contemplate for a moment before deciding on a less direct approach, with the hopes of feeling out the situation a bit more.

"Random tangent," I start, hoping my tone is casual enough, "but can anyone get into our rooms? There aren't really any locks..." I trail off, and Chris picks up exactly as I'd hoped.

"Nah, they're coded to you. Only way for someone else to get in is if you give your permission." He doesn't elaborate, so I let the silence stretch for a moment as we enter the stairwell and begin climbing. Chris opens the door to the first floor, and we traipse down a hallway identical to the one below.

"So, how does that work exactly? What would I have to do, to grant permission? Just let someone in?" Though I have ulterior motives, I do actually want an answer. The last thing I need is to accidentally allow someone access to my room; if I know the process, I can avoid putting myself in danger. And I get an elbow in my ribs for my efforts.

"Oi, two days in and you've already got someone you want in your bedroom, eh?" He's teasing, but my face flushes with embarrassment as I try to backpedal.

"No, no, I just don't want to, y'know, accidentally give someone permission," I rush the words out, but Chris is laughing anyway.

"Mate, I'm just fucking with you, no need to get defensive. It's pretty simple, but hard to do by accident. Have the person hold their hand on the doorknob inside your room and say 'I give this person permission to access this room'. If you ever need to reverse it, hold your own hand on the knob and say you revoke their permission. The magic on the doors is pretty sentient, it usually understands what you want." The heat in my cheeks has cooled off a bit, as we've been walking for a while, but Chris hasn't stopped yet.