Hal Jordan | Green Lantern (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
green_lantern) wrote2011-09-08 12:53 am
green_lantern) wrote2011-09-08 12:53 am
[ Showcase #5 - backdated to summer lovin' - locked to Lois ]
[Hal is groggy when he comes to, sprawled inelegantly on the duvet. Ordinarily he might have just rolled right back over and gone to sleep, maybe caught Lois for some spooning on the way to dreamland, but a brief glance around tells the pilot that something is amiss.
...like the fact that they aren't in their digs on Kramden, first and foremost. Sitting bolt upright, Hal casts a look around the strange room before he swings his legs off the bed. His feet barely skim over the hideous teal and blue floral motif carpet as he races for the door, trying the handle. Locked. Well, of course.
Tugging the knot of his tie loose, he inspects the rest of the room, careful not to disturb the still-sleeping journalist. After a thought he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over her- titillating as the lingerie is, it doesn't look all that warm. Maybe he can find a way out in the meantime?]
...like the fact that they aren't in their digs on Kramden, first and foremost. Sitting bolt upright, Hal casts a look around the strange room before he swings his legs off the bed. His feet barely skim over the hideous teal and blue floral motif carpet as he races for the door, trying the handle. Locked. Well, of course.
Tugging the knot of his tie loose, he inspects the rest of the room, careful not to disturb the still-sleeping journalist. After a thought he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over her- titillating as the lingerie is, it doesn't look all that warm. Maybe he can find a way out in the meantime?]
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She can subconsciously feel the bed shifting, though, so she shuts her eyes a little tighter to fight the tug back to reality and rolls over onto her belly to block out the sunlight and bury her face into the pillow.
The pillow that smells vaguely of... roses? Perfume? Perfume-y roses? And when had they gotten silk sheets?
She frowned into the pillowcase, feeling some kind of heavy half-blanket of stiff material drape over her back before she lifts her head, squinting her eyes and looking around.]
Mnnhh?
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He's peering beneath one silver lid on the meal tray when he hears Lois stir, replacing it as he glances over at her.]
All right there, Ace?
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S'like a cheap porno in here.
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[Hal hefts a chair by its legs, testing its weight before he crosses to the red curtained window and swings at it with everything he's got. It comes as a complete surprise when the glass not only doesn't shatter, but bounces the chair back like it's made of rubber. Obviously, he has to hit it again...and again...and again, to no effect.]
...you've got to be fucking kidding me.
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[Actually, Lois. It did. But that's not the point here. She rolls her eyes anyway, bracing herself for the crash anyone would expect when someone slams a chair into a window. Except all she hears instead is a an almost comical 'boing' of the chair ricocheting from the window.]
... The fuck? [She frowns, slipping off the bed and shifting his coat around to put it on. Crossing the room, she tried the doorknob, jiggling it once, twice, and then a few times more a little more violently.]
Are we cursed? Is this a curse?
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Hal rattles the frame, unable to find a lock or a hinge or so much as a hint that it can be opened. It remains stubbornly fixed into place, refusing to give in. His sweaty palm makes a neat imprint on the glass, obscured when the curtain swings back into place as he turned to Lois.]
It could be worse.
[He almost facepalms at having said that. Luckily for the both of them, the gods of comedic irony apparently weren't listening, and thus nothing worse chooses to rain upon them at that point in time. Well. Supper might be getting cold. YMMV.]
I mean, we're locked in something out of a Vegas nightmare, there's dinner, a cabinet full of liquor and you're dressed like a Playboy Bunny. Does the town want us to...
[He trails off, though 'To shag like rabbits' is pretty well implied. It's either endearing or ridiculous that a raging man-slut of Hal's caliber can still get flustered over stupid sex euphemisms from time to time. Somewhere, deep down, he's still that wide-eyed, naive 18 year old that only dreams about the sky.]
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A little part of her may have just died at the supreme waste of alcohol, but she looks a little satisfied as she dusts her hands off.]
Okay, here are the rules. We don't eat or drink anything this hotel gives us. Period. I refuse to cough up razors or watch you die or spend the night filling the toilet up with puke.
[She huffs a breath, glancing around the room again.]
And let's face it. If Mayfield is pushing us to stage our own mini porno tonight, it's obviously a bad idea, right? I am not getting knocked up in this God-forsaken town, and I am not giving birth to a psycho drone child. So no.
[She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. What, Lois? It's not his fault, for God sakes...]
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What? I'm not suggesting we have sex, Jesus. There's probably creepy Cold War bugs everywhere...
[The rotary phone has no dial tone, the receiver clattering when he drops it back against the cradle. He has a distinct urge to rip it from the wall and toss it into the closet, just to be safe. Collapsing into the room's only chair, a wingback relic that someone from the 50's probably thought was oh so Louis XVI, Hal irritably unfastens the collar of his tuxedo shirt and runs a hand over his face.]
So we just sit tight and wait then.
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Okay, gross. Please never follow sex talk up with bugs ever again.
[She sighed, propping herself up on the room's oh-so-vintage probably-hand-carved wooden desk and crossing one leg over the other. Watching him a moment, she rolls up the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket and glances around.]
I really do hate this place.
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Not creepy-crawlies. Listening devices. Honestly, Lois, have you never seen "Spies Like Us" or "True Lies"? What are they teaching you in Metropolis?
[He extends his foot from where he's balanced it across his knee, giving her bare shin a gentle, playful nudge. Truth be told, he's not all that keen to joke around about spy movies when the town might just have left them there to rot, but the opportunity for banter is a welcome distraction.]
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Hey, I don't know about you, but when somebody says "creepy" and "bugs" in the same sentence, I go with the crawly type. And no, I haven't seen either. Don't patronize me, Jordan. I can still kick your ass, no matter how many spy movies you've got on me.
[She uncrosses her legs and nudges his foot right back, sticking her tongue out at him and smirking. It was a welcome distraction, indeed, to at least be stranded God knows where with someone she trusted.]
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Oh sure, if you say so. And I'll have to remedy that somehow. I haven't yet found a Blockbuster in this damn town.
[Have another nudge. Oh God, are they playing footsie?]
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You don't think I can? Because I will, Hal. I'll own you so hard, you won't even know what hit you.
[Okay, maybe she has one of those cards, too. But she just nudges him right back, grinning down at him. Why, yes. Yes, they are playing footsie. How sickeningly... couple-y of them.]
Seeing as how the VHS hasn't even been invented yet, I doubt you'll find one for a while.