Stepback Tempo

• × Chapter Eight: Matchstick, Part 2 × •

There was a quiet cacophony of voices echoing in the boy's ears, and his eyes sleepily opened. The room was darker than before, and the sky outside was pitch black, alit by the city lights peering into the window. Blurry, he shifted on the couch, and turned his head. Ensley was no longer there, except the part of that couch was if anything, hot to the touch. The man had most likely gotten up to go somewhere. Partially awake, the redhead sat up and yawned, looking out the window from where he sat, and listening for where the voices came from. Drowsy eyes looked up, glancing at the closed door that led to the room Matchstick and Chancellor had entered earlier. He heard low mumbles, and what sounded like a frustrated, English accent. From the incomprehensible things he heard and the chance of accents, Ensley sounded upset. Jacques got up, keeping his footsteps quiet as he shuffled to the door. His body felt as though he slept for about an hour or so. Pressing his ear up to the door, he quietly listened. There was a clink and a rustle, and Jack could hear the annoyed tapping of Ensley's cane. "I'll be damned. Why would they be coming here?" He snapped harshly, his tongue cold. Chancellor's voice spoke up with a huff, quieting the other. "Quiet. The boy could hear you, Ensley. All this soot won't do well for him." A feminine voice spoke up with the crackle of flames. "Leave him be. There's no other choice, Chancellor. They could indeed hurt him... even with this gem. Ensley has every right to be angry." There was silence afterwards, before an echoing click of Chancellor's tongue. "You and Jack would need to start moving again."

Jack's eyes quietly widened, and he continued to eavesdrop. Ensley made a low huff, sounding as though he was walking until he stopped... somewhere. "What? You should at least come with us. Your powers are useful and can keep us all safe. What if Jack gets hurt?" The Englishman spoke with a sharp, soot clouded tongue. Chancellor seemed to shuffle around the room with a sneering tone, and huffed. "Luck and probability is not always a wise choice. I need to stay at the hotel." He spoke. Ensley's voice softened at that, and he replied. "It may not bring us a wise choice all in all, but it brings us a best case scenario. There's been several occasions in which you saved us and others from bad consequences." His voice lowered. "Besides, where would we go? You know that once they know about him, we will not be safe. And my powers especially come with weaknesses."

The gambler grew silent at the other's request. His hands shifted against his ascot, tugging it. In the corner of the smaller room, Matchstick was sitting at a table and looking at the gem in her hands. She had did some welding and such, and made it into an amulet. "I believe, Chancellor, that you must go with them when the time arises. This hotel never leaves its spot." Humming, she spun her chair and and held the amulet in the light of her flame. "It will grow most likely get dangerous for the three of you -- especially since... our kind tends to sense when there is a Perception Gem in our presence." The two Oculatums glanced at the Demon. "Are you sure?" Ensley spoke with discomfort. "That's especially not safe, then." Soon, their conversation was interrupted by a loud ring in Chancellor's pocket. Matchstick and Ensley both paused, looking over at him as he pulled out his phone and answered the call.

"Yes? Oh? I... alright. I'll head down there immediately."

The gambler finished his short talk with the person on the other line, and then hung up. Eyes shifting from the device, he mumbled soft and pushed the phone back into his pocket. "Someone is on the ground floor. I need to be heading downstairs." He commented, brushing off his suit. The Englishman gave a furrowed look of worry, honey golden eyes watching. "Be careful. You don't know who could be down there." His cane rapped against the wood flooring. Chancellor gave a scoff, and nodded. "Of course. I've worked here for years, Ensley. I know my regulars."

Jack heard footsteps get closer to the door and quickly shuffled back to the couch with no sound, pretending to fall back asleep. The hotel manager had opened the door, giving them a wave before he looked over to check on the "sleeping" redhead. Lightly, he smiled before leaving the apartment.

× × ×

The man had made his way down the soot-dusted elevator and hit the bottom floor. Dusting off his vest-coat, he stepped out and into the lobby. "Welcome to Whitewood. Is there anything I can get y-"

His red eyes looked up. A teenager with sandy blonde hair stood in the middle of the room alone. Hands bundled in a tan coat with white fur coming up from the collar, his eyes were closed as he turned his head towards the gambler and smiled. "Hello. My name is William." A strange, thin black line ran down from the middle of his hairline to his chin, and the 6'1" male rose his brows. "I would like a room, please."

Chancellor stuttered low, stepping over to him. "My boy... I haven't seen you around here before. Aren't you a slightly bit too young to be asking for a room? I can call to see if your parents are on the premises."

The young teen kept his grin. If anything, it was wider as he listened to the Oculatum. "I believe you misheard me, sir. I can restate what I said if need be. What I said was..."

William's eyes opened, brows raising, and Chancellor's body froze in silence. The boy's eyes were— out of anything —abnormal. The right was white with a yellow iris, and the left was... completely black. In eyeshot, the manager glanced down at his pocket and sat sharp, red fingertips.

"I would like a room."