Taking a deep breath, Derek nodded. "Yeah, I think that's probably our best bet. One of them leads outside; one of them has to lead outside, so we just...open them all until we find the right one," he replied with a shrug. It seemed as good an idea as any.
When Cleo didn't hesitate or contradict him, Derek started down the hall in the direction he had indicated. There was bound to be several doors to check along the way, but he was guessing that they were mostly going to be bedrooms or sitting areas.
His eyebrows lifted when she said that this wasn't her first time, either. "Wow, Cleo, that is a really shitty thing for us to have in common, huh?" he asked, giving her a look that couldn't decide whether it was sympathetic or amused. He wondered if she was supernatural, too. Maybe that was something else they had in common, but he wasn't going to come out and ask her. She wasn't a werewolf; he couldn't smell that on her, but she could be a kitsune or a banshee or God only knew what else.
He reached for the first doorknob they came to and turned it, pushing the door open. It was empty save a couple of paintings on the wall. A thin layer of dust had settled over the floor and the frames. Derek couldn't help noticing that it was missing a window. Most rooms had windows, didn't they? But this was two, now, in a row, that didn't.
He registered what she'd asked belatedly and looked over at her again, blinking his confusion for a beat before responding. "...I was in Brooklyn. New York. United States," he told her, looking uncomfortable again. "You were in Australia? I just assumed you were in America, too, but that you just hadn't lost your accent or you'd been visiting on a business trip or something... We came from different parts of the world? That's...not very comforting..." he replied, his brow creasing with concern.
The biggest problem he had with this place so far was that nothing made sense. Two people waking up in one creepy room of one creepy house who started on opposite sides of the planet, no windows that he's been able to see so far. That message on the record player. The fact that they were dressed for a party neither of them planned on attending. ...that he can't smell anything off; he just smells a musty old house and a pretty girl with coconut-scented shampoo and a hint of salt water like she'd been to a beach in the past day or two. There's nothing wrong with the picture, which was exactly what was wrong with the picture.
no subject
When Cleo didn't hesitate or contradict him, Derek started down the hall in the direction he had indicated. There was bound to be several doors to check along the way, but he was guessing that they were mostly going to be bedrooms or sitting areas.
His eyebrows lifted when she said that this wasn't her first time, either. "Wow, Cleo, that is a really shitty thing for us to have in common, huh?" he asked, giving her a look that couldn't decide whether it was sympathetic or amused. He wondered if she was supernatural, too. Maybe that was something else they had in common, but he wasn't going to come out and ask her. She wasn't a werewolf; he couldn't smell that on her, but she could be a kitsune or a banshee or God only knew what else.
He reached for the first doorknob they came to and turned it, pushing the door open. It was empty save a couple of paintings on the wall. A thin layer of dust had settled over the floor and the frames. Derek couldn't help noticing that it was missing a window. Most rooms had windows, didn't they? But this was two, now, in a row, that didn't.
He registered what she'd asked belatedly and looked over at her again, blinking his confusion for a beat before responding. "...I was in Brooklyn. New York. United States," he told her, looking uncomfortable again. "You were in Australia? I just assumed you were in America, too, but that you just hadn't lost your accent or you'd been visiting on a business trip or something... We came from different parts of the world? That's...not very comforting..." he replied, his brow creasing with concern.
The biggest problem he had with this place so far was that nothing made sense. Two people waking up in one creepy room of one creepy house who started on opposite sides of the planet, no windows that he's been able to see so far. That message on the record player. The fact that they were dressed for a party neither of them planned on attending. ...that he can't smell anything off; he just smells a musty old house and a pretty girl with coconut-scented shampoo and a hint of salt water like she'd been to a beach in the past day or two. There's nothing wrong with the picture, which was exactly what was wrong with the picture.