Chapter Text
I remember being cold.
It was dark, and I was shivering.
The moon looked like bone above me, lighting the clouded puffs of breath that I took.
I couldn't feel my hands.
Then I was inside, and the feeling slowly came back to my limbs, like the ache radiating from my bones after a long day of exercise.
The room was lit by candle-light. The walls were made of wood. Before me, a sturdy counter.
But why can't I seem to move?
She stood, pale and shivering in a room with no entrances, as an old, hunched rat appeared from a dark corner, lighting his candle on the one at the desk, "My. You look like you're in quite a state! Were you here for the job?"
Around them, the room expanded, almost imperceptibly, like breathing, stretching the wooden walls with each creaking inhalation, a whistling, icy breeze encroaching on the strangely comfortable warmth inside.
"Where...?" She trailed off, voice sticking in her throat.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, my dear. This place is undergoing some...renovations, of late," his tone was only briefly distasteful, "I suppose I'm being a bit presumptuous, assuming you recognised the place. Welcome to Gregory House. I am Gregory."
The young woman rubbed bare arms, finally turning her aching neck to look around the room. A hotel lobby. Yes...this...this made perfect sense. Why had she thought this place was breathing a moment ago? It must have been a trick of the light.
"Are you feeling alright, my dear? You look rather pale...perhaps we should get you checked in so that you can lie down," he took up a pair of reading glasses, propping them on his curved, whiskered snout, "Can I get a name for the books?"
"I..." she stood there a moment, "Sorry, I don't..."
The entire place seemed to shiver, as if it were alive.
"Oh, please don't worry about it too much, my dear. Even a nickname will do," Gregory quickly assured.
"Right...sorry, I just..." can't remember my name, "Don't like giving out my name. You can call me Pink."
"A lovely name for someone with such lovely pink hair," the old rat complimented, scrawling down the name in the book, "I'm so glad that position has been filled so quickly! Ah, but we can discuss that come morning. I'll return shortly. Please wait here while I prepare your room."
She froze for a moment, watching as the candle flame retreated into the darkened hallway. A tension she hadn't realised she had been holding in her shoulders slowly relaxed. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she shifted from one foot to the other, slowly walking toward a sofa that sat in the middle of the room. It was an old thing. It looked so strangely familiar, with an embroidered pink fabric, and polished wooden trim.
Pink stared at it for a few seconds. Where did she know it from...there was even that same, worn down stain in the fading pink fabric, almost shining where it had been rubbed and scrubbed at in a desperate attempt to clean it before she had been caught by....
"Do you like the furniture, my dear?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning on the ball of her foot, as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have, "I...ah...I used to have one like this," she gestured to the couch, which she now noticed was complimented by unfamiliar matching chairs.
"Is that so? It's quite rare to have the whole set you know," Gregory commented, moving up beside her as she turned her attention back to the sitting area, "It's nice to see such a beautiful young woman who has an appreciation for antiques. You must remind me to show you my collection sometime."
She looked down at him, having a good bit of height over his slouching form, "I'm not sure, Mr...um..."
"Please, just Gregory is fine," he assured her, "You could say I'm not too fond of getting my name out there either. Hehehe..."
"Right. I'm not sure, Gregory. I...I'm not sure I'm who you think I am. I...maybe I should go, now. I'm very sorry to inconvenience you." She turned, and started walking toward the double doors which looked most likely to be an exit.
"Ms. Pink, please. The position is open to anyone, and," his tone hadn't changed, but something about it sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of the icy cold outside, and the howling wind that waited for her the moment she walked out that door, "I can't send a young woman out there alone. Not at this time of night! Please, at least come and look at your room."
"Look at..." pale blue eyes turned toward the old rat. Wasn't it strange that he was like this? Something about all of this was very, very odd. How had she come here? Who was he? Who...was she? Her lips moved against her will, "I don't suppose there is any harm in looking."
He smiled, crooked, yellowed teeth gleaming in the light from his candle, "Excellent, my dear. Please follow me."
And she did. She followed him down the hall, feeling the shift of the floorboards with every step. The walls were lined with paintings, sculptures and shadowboxes. She couldn't look at them in the dark.
"I'll give you a proper tour come morning," he spoke as they walked, "You'll want to meet the other residents, of course. And our chef will be eagre to make sure you get something to eat. You're so thin, it's no wonder you were freezing! I'll never understand why young women nowadays are so concerned with their figure at the cost of their health...."
Pink frowned, unable to articulate her offense for a moment, "Excuse me, that's incredibly inappropria--"
"Ah, here we are. Room 404," the door opened more silently than expected, revealing a sparsely decorated room, though still cozy, mostly wood, with a circular blue rug in the centre and a comfortable looking bed large enough for two, "Please, make yourself at home. Feel free to decorate however you like. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. The bath is just down the hall and to the right, if you need it. The phone on your desk connects to any room in the hotel."
Pink listened numbly. The room was bigger than she'd expected it to be, but was incredibly empty. She was distantly aware of Gregory continuing to speak, describing various things within the room. The bedframe was from the...Titanic? What?
She had to force herself to tune back in, as he showed her where to find spare candles, if the power went out, and told her that there were some spare clothes in the closet that were about her size.
"I...see. Right. Thank you Mist--um. Thank you, Gregory. I'm...actually very tired. I think I'm going to get some sleep now."
"Of course, my dear. We'll discuss your employment come morning," his tail had barely cleared the door as it shut behind him, with a soft click.
The weight of a day unremembered flowed through her limbs. She moved automatically toward the bed, stripping out of damp clothing as she went. Navy blue crop top, followed by denim skirt, then boots, then socks, and finally her bra, all left in a pile on the floor, as she collapsed onto the bed, facedown, before wiggling under the covers.
Sleep was heavy and quick to take her. By the time she woke, dim beams of clouded sunlight filtered through a lace curtain, into her room, swirls of dust dancing in the air.
She lay there for several minutes, blue eyes squinting slightly at the beam shining onto the comfortable, if slightly scratchy old blanket she'd so easily thrown herself onto.
Getting up took more effort than she expected it to, like she was trying to move through gelatin instead of air. This room didn't look or feel like a hotel. But in spite of it all, everything seemed oddly bright, as she collected her bra off the floor, putting it on like she had a hundred times before, and making her way over to the closet to see what there was for her to wear.
The clothing inside was a little out of date, in the way that a ticket to the Queen Mary was a little out of date, but despite a little dust, looked as if it had never been worn before. She picked out a slightly warmer outfit than what she'd left on the floor, getting dressed, and making her way toward the door out into the hall.
Just as she was reaching for the handle, a sharp knock tore her from her almost hypnotised state, making her jump where she stood, before opening it to the rat from the night before.
"Good afternoon. I hope you don't mind my allowing you to sleep in, but you seemed very exhausted, my dear."
"Oh. Um," she brushed a pink strand of hair behind her ear, "Yes, I was...I think I needed the sleep, thank you. But, um...look, I'm not even sure what sort of job you wanted to hire me for?"
He rose a brow, purple eyes, for just a moment, both focused on her, before his lazy eye once more slipped into a sidelong stare, "Now, now, my dear, it's nothing too intimidating. Just a simple co-manager position," he gestured for her to follow him as he led the way down the hall, "We've got a rather large number of residents, now, and on top of that, there are some...complications, from one of our former residents. I'm not really able to go into detail unless you take the job, but it's rather serious, and we need someone to fill the position as soon as possible so that we can take care of the problems he's been causing for me and my tenants."
"Complications?" She hugged herself as she walked, looking about the hallway, which seemed so much larger than it had the previous night, "How would this have anything to do with me? I don't even have any management experience, least of all in a hotel."
"As I said, the details are for after you're hired. For now, suffice it to say that everyone living here has the potential to be in terrible danger without someone else to take on some of the responsibility around here. And of course, you will be paid handsomely."
Pink stopped, taking a moment to look around. Antiques and oddities framed the hall around her.
Gregory stopped as well, glancing back, "Is something the matter, my dear?"
"I don't...I don't think I'm cut out for this job. Thank you for the room, and the change of clothes. But...I should just go, before I inconvenience you any more."
"Are you certain?" His tone of voice sent a horrible chill through the hall, though he still looked as kindly as he had before.
Pink took a half step back, "I'm afraid I'm simply...not qualified," she could feel herself growing pale, though she could think of no reason why, "I should...go and get my things."
She turned around, and ran. She didn't know why she was running, or why she was suddenly so terrified of the prospect of staying for even another moment, but she needed to go. Now.
Down the hallway, left turn, then a right, up some stairs...was that right? She couldn't remember. The whole place seemed to be twisting itself. Everything and nothing looked familiar. Finally, she came to a door that looked just like her own, throwing it open, and taking a single step, before realizing there was nothing to step out onto, and there was a cool, Autumn breeze blowing in through the open door.
The guest pinwheeled her arms, trying to grab the doorframe and pull herself back, and in all of a split second, she felt the slightly cold hand of the proprietor closing around her wrist, whipping her around so that she half dangled over the four storey drop, his other hand braced on the frame.
"My, my. Seems you've fallen for our old security door. Didn't you read the sign?" He was smirking, "Hmm...I suppose, if you really want to leave, I can't stop you, but...you did stay here last night without paying. I'm under no obligation to make sure you don't get hurt if you're not planning on taking the job..." His grip began to loosen.
Pink scrambled to hold onto him, eyes wide with fear, "What the fuck? You're crazy!"
"It's not the first I've been told as much, my dear. It really is a shame. You would have made an excellent manager..." He let go entirely.
All that was keeping her from falling was her own slipping grip on his arm, "Fine! Fine, I'll take the job!"
"Excellent. I'm glad you saw reason," his sharp nailed hand closed again on her wrist, as he pulled her back, and into the hall, letting go as soon as she was safe.
She dropped, shaking, to her knees, fingers digging into the thick, antique carpet as if it would save her from falling again. At the same time, Gregory was shutting and locking the door with a heavy set of keys.
He tested the door, "There we go. No more accidents."
"Why the hell do you even have a door to nowhere??"
"It's an old security trick, going back to when the hotel was first built, meant to trick those who would steal from us into falling to their death," he replied, "It's called an 'Irish elevator,' though I personally prefer to call it a 'dead man's door.' Of course, had you gone through it, you most certainly would be... I wonder who unlocked it? Heheh."
"What the h..."
"Now, now. Is that any way to speak to your boss?"
Pink frowned, pressing her lips together.
"I'm just joking, my dear! I'm sure we're going to get along just fine. Now, get up, and follow me. We have some work to do."