entranceway | 03

Entry tags:

03 | Video

[Maggie looks a bit paler and much more exhausted than usual, but puts on as warm and chipper a front as she can. She's clearly sitting on the floor as she posts this.]

Hello again, Wonderland! While it's good to see all of your lovely faces, those nine flights of stairs up to my room are a considerably less welcome sight. Would someone be so kind as to help me up to my bed? A couple of someones if necessary? I've had an eventful week and I'm not at my best.

Once that's managed, I intend to stay there for a few days at barest minimum.

I'll be hosting horror movie marathons tomorrow night and the night after, in room 969, barring Wonderland-interference. Prior acquaintance not required! If horror isn't your cup of tea, feel free to stop by during the afternoons instead. Incidentally, non-metaphorical cups of tea will be available, or your hot or caffeinated beverage of choice. Hope to see you soon, darlings!

((Spam tags for movie night or afternoon visits also welcome!))

[Private to Mahir, Shaun, and Georgia]

[More seriously, dropping any pretense:]

How long was I gone? Let me find my bed, and then all of you get over here before you ask what you've missed back home.

[She doesn't want to do this more than once.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah, I don't think they've gotten that advance in my world. Not with all the shit that's going around most days.

[Not that he thinks much of the news anyway.]

I mean, really? You can fake your death and be declared dead by news sources before they even tell your family.

[Which at least he hadn't been stuck with. He who fake knocked them off got stuck with that.]

A lot of your world sounds interesting, except the zombies which I've learned to hate quick.

Electronic media means people don't need to leave their houses and venture out into the scary world. Once society got back on its feet after the Rising, the walking dead gave it more traction rather than derailing it.

The zombies are awful but corruption in the government is a bigger problem. Everyone I've lost, I lost because a living person made the decision that their lives were an acceptable cost.

The world's always been a scary place, though I guess that's entirely different than what I saw in Mexico.

[At least they could leave the culebra behind. Or should have, though they didn't.]

Let me guess. All in the name of saving everyone else from the zombies?

[Maggie hums agreement and sympathy.] I hope it stays isolated in your world. [The Rising was everywhere, impossible for anyone to ignore.]

Ostensibly, after a long string of convoluted justifications.

That's something we can both drink too. Worries me every damn event that will change.

[Because dammit, he doesn't want to deal with those fuckers again. Except Richie.]

That's the government for you. Apparently in any world.

You'll have to drink my share too. The bullet nicked my liver.

Bureaucracy and corruption: true universals.

Well. Darn? Seriously though... You gonna be okay?

Gotta be one world where that isn't cruel. Bet no one from there ever ends up here though.

I had very good doctors and they haven't done anything but give me painkillers and tell me to rest in days. I was just under observation to be safe, especially since everyone wants to be sure the Garcia heiress doesn't die on their watch. You're welcome to stop by and see for yourself, though.

I hope not. Let them keep their idyllic world instead.

I may just do that. In our totally idyllic world here.

[Maybe the sarcasm was a bit thick there, but he disconnects the connection after that.

It's a couple of days before there's a tap on her door though, at last not barging in as he was want to do with some.]

"Come in!" Maggie isn't in bed at the moment, but she's still taking it very easy, sprawled on the couch with a pile of books nearby, one open in her lap. She'll forego playing proper hostess for once and make people open the door themselves.

[Pushing open the door, Seth stepped in and took a slow look around.]

Not what I was expecting for an heiress.

[Definitely teasing with the grin on his face as he came a bit closer.]

Seem to have yourself all settled in. Seen a doc here? Or healer. OR whatever it is we have.

"Mmm. For my twenty first birthday my parents offered me anything I wanted. I asked for my grandmother's old farmhouse outfitted with enough security features to make it livable."

Because yes, her room in Wonderland does look like her home. Cozy old pre-Rising furniture, a comfortable amount of clutter, not much advanced technology available, at first glance at least, aside from a single computer console in the corner of the room and a projector on one wall. There's nothing sleek or modern or sterile about the space at all. It's obviously designed for comfort. All that's missing are the aforementioned dogs underfoot.

"I don't need to. The doctors had stopped looking worried, and I have enough very basic medical knowledge to tell when something's wrong even if I dodged the family business."

A brow arches at that, giving her a look.

"Okay, I'm going to ask how much security you need for things to be livable. Is that the zombie thing or being rich thing? Because, from my end of thing? A home with security is like prison. Well, was prison," he says, figuring there's no reason to hide just how that left him feeling thinking about his time with high security living.

"You sure though? Dying here should be the lowest priority. No sense giving them anything they want, you know?"

Maggie shrugs. "Both. I'm potentially worth billions in ransom money as my parents' precious only child, and I live in a relatively high risk area in terms of rural setting with a lot of woodland cover. If it's a prison, it's as comfortable a prison as possible, and I can leave as often as I want. I can almost forget the security measures, if I try hard enough." She never tries that hard. Maggie prefers to be aware of her surroundings most of the time. Her parents have always given her as much freedom as possible, under the circumstances.

She does nod and offer the assurance, "I've never messed around with my health. I'm sure."

"And going around telling people that you're worth that much is so safe," he says, looking damned amused. More so than he likely should be given where they are and what he's joking about.

"This place is too much of a prison for me, though it's a lot better than the ones from years past. Well, it was." All that he'd enjoyed about it was long gone, and he just holds on hope that it comes back. That they come back.

"Fair enough. I can't say the same, so I'm never good about believing that others are better at caring for themselves." That came with a wry smile, not amused but trying to be amusing.

Maggie laughs softly. "This is Wonderland. I hardly think you'll figure out how to send a note to my parents telling me you have me captive here, or that the Queens are much interested in trying. If you do find a way, by all means let me know. Being able to send messages could come in handy."

She gestures over at the counter set up with coffeemaker and electric kettle. "I'm usually better at taking care of other people, actually, but this week I think I'm going to be sensible and lazy. Help yourself there or the closet."

"Hell, you can get gold through the closet," he points out. "Which yes, does actually say that I totally tested that in my first days here. Bearer bonds of dubious origin, money, silver, gold, platinum. Hell, you could probably get uranium, and that can be worth a pretty penny in the right markets."

Not that he's tried that one, but when you're in the business, you hear things.

"Course. What would you prefer?" He heads that way, glancing at her. "I can handle pretty much being a good host," he teases.

"Maybe put a pin in the radioactive materials idea. I don't think you want any of those in your room." She did note that Seth didn't seem to be speaking from experience on that one. "I'm more familiar with the markets for pharmaceuticals and medical tech. I tried for some of those today, but really, I could have done with continuing to avoid the family business."

In other words, painkillers. She'd prefer not to need any, thanks.

"Tea, please. And I could use a snack. I'm not picky."

With a grin, Seth held up both hands in defeat. "Oh no worries here. Not anything I plan to do. I'm just saying, the closets don't seem to have a filter or care the danger they could cause. Or, whoever is behind them doesn't care at least," he points out, but the conversation amuses him and he definitely needed it.

"Well, that explains the wealth. Drugs are always the way to money, legal or otherwise," he notes, having seen it all first hand. "Don't try and brave it out though. If you need something, take them."

He moves to the table where kettle is. "You got snacks around or should I play with the closet? I know some are more comfortable with what they bring through."

"Mmm. My parents were relatively well off before the Rising. When the dead started walking, they figured that either society would break down and make currency meaningless or people would care more about their health. They transferred every penny they had into med tech just before the stock markets closed. It paid off more than anticipated." Because the success of Garcia Pharmaceuticals wasn't something anyone could have quite prepared for.

"Don't worry. I hate pain. I'm not the stoically-grit-my-teeth sort. When I need the pills, I'll take them."

As for snacks, "There are cookies in the cupboard, and popcorn if you feel like putting some in the popper. Otherwise, try the closet."

"So that's the life you've always known but this..." He glances up at her, gesturing around. "Doesn't reflect that. I never actually met one of those down to Earth types," he admits, sounding curious about it. He's known rich kids, but they lived like it. "Course, my view of them hasn't been that wide." Victims. Cute girls in bars. Clients.

"Oh good, because it's bad enough I'm that type." Smirking as he moved to get the popcorn and moving to the popper as he talks, moving easily about though it's her place. He's the type to make himself comfortable nearly anywhere, or fake it reasonably.

"I like being comfortable, and I'm not a fan of people looking at me like all that matters is the money in my parents' bank account. The goal is to make them forget that." The furniture reflects Maggie's actual preferences; she wouldn't set up her home in a way she didn't sincerely like. It just also fits perfectly with every calculating instinct she has. She smiles. "I'm good at my job, but one of the best things about it is that it's entirely unrelated to the my parents' work. People just look at me like Maggie."

She smiles at Seth's snack choice. Given all the movie nights she's hosted, not much is homier than the smell of popcorn, except maybe the sound of dogs. She'll satisfy herself with just the former for now.

Breezily, she tells him, "No, I'm a wimp. Leave stoicism for the Irwins and Newsies. Fictionals can afford to be not quite as fieldwork-ready." The first part of that isn't quite true. Maggie's brand of stoicism is all cheerful smiles rather than grim gritting her teeth. She's still good at putting up a front when she needs to.

"Never met someone like that," he admits, giving her another look. "And I've dealt with a lot of people with money. They like showing it off, which is usually their downfall," he points out, sounding a tiny bit smug about it.

"And what do your parents think about what you do for a living? I can't even imagine my dad's reaction to something like that,' he says, looking around to find pepper and then going to the closet to get pepper flakes.

"Giving in to your pain doesn't make you a wimp. You know that, right?"

"I'm very spoiled on the parents front, if not necessarily on the rich girl one. Telling them I planned on moving to the middle of the woods to write poetry and porn for a living and rescue overbred epileptic dogs only resulted in a long pause followed by, 'You're sure this is what you want, Magdalene?' They don't care what I do so long as I'm safe, happy, and have at least some sense of personal responsibility."

Maggie peers over in the direction of the closet, curious what Seth is going for.

She smiles at his comment, though. "That was a joke, mostly. Don't worry, Seth, I don't need a lecture about being self deprecating."

"Okay, in fairness? If I had a kid and they told me that? I would be asking the same thing," he admits, chuckling softly as he told her that. "Because, really, who truly wants to do that?"

He holds up one hand in surrender though. "And yes, I know. You do and did. But you had to know people would side eye that."

Not that he can say much. He's done a lot that most shouldn't do, and wouldn't do, and definitely wouldn't make their life.

"Just making sure. I spent most days wallowing in self pity, but I'm good on encouraging others not to do the same."

Coming back with a couple of bottles of spices, as well as cotija cheese as he waited on the popcorn to pop.

03 | Video

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