“Someone creamed my car, on my way back to the hotel from the printer, with the posters,” Al said. “You know, for Spiner and Schwarzenegger. They turned up, you know.”
“Actually you look rather like the Terminator did work you over,” Xander said. “Wait, they came? To this… to where? What happened?”
“Are you okay? Really?” Dave asked.
“Well, there were moments,” Al said. “When I was perfectly certain I was going stark stir crazy. I came to this place three times this weekend, guys. This hotel just wasn’t here. And it insisted on trying to trick me into thinking that it never was here in the first place. But I have evidence,” he added darkly, patting his pocket with his good hand. “I have pictures. Right here. Something really strange was going on, or else I really was suffering from complete terminal concussion…”
“D’you need a cup of coffee?” Xander said. “You look like you could use one. Come on up to Con Ops and I’ll scrounge something up for you — and Andie Mae could be there by now, and if not they’ll know where to find her.”
“Sure,” Al said. “Okay.”
Xander lifted a hand in a parting gesture and then fell into step beside Al as they walked towards the stairwell of Tower 1.
“Sorry,” Dave heard Xander say as the two walked away from him, “but it’s got to be the stairs — there was an incident with the elevators in that wing — one of them tried to kill me…”
The lobby was getting increasingly crowded, people were bustling about with suitcases and coats and hats and bags, some just trying to make a clean getaway, others waving credit cards at receptionists behind the counter as they tried to settle their accounts before leaving. Three cabs idled outside, waiting for their fares. People stood in knots out under the portico, talking animatedly over piles of luggage or enthusiastically hugging their farewells. Several waved at Dave as they caught his eye, and he waved back, smiling a tired smile.
He almost missed one of his Guests of Honor in the milling mob of people in the lobby, but a tap on his shoulder made him turn inquiringly… to face a rather worse — for — wear Rory Grissom, dressed in mundane clothing and dragging a large, battered suitcase behind him. His eyes were red and boasted bags underneath them that could probably have doubled as storage pouches if Rory had needed extra luggage, and his color was high, but he seemed to have at least made the acquaintance of a comb that morning and he certainly did not look too unhappy about what Dave surmised must have been an absolutely cosmic hangover headache.
“Thanks for the memories,” Rory said. “Do me a favor…?”
“You need a ride?”
“No, got that sorted. No, something else. I… seem to have mislaid one of my boots.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“One of my boots. That is to say, one of Captain Fleming’s boots. My Invictus costume. I’ve got one of the boots, but the other one seems to have gone walkabout — so if you’d keep an eye out — or tell the hotel to — it looks just like this one — ” He took a somewhat crumpled publicity shot out of his pocket and thrust it at Dave, tapping with his finger at one of his silver — booted legs in the photo. “I mean, that is to say, I couldn’t locate it in my room when I was throwing my stuff together, and I, um, er, it could be in several other different locations — so if it should be found, I would appreciate a heads — up…”
“I’ll let them know,” Dave said.
“Custom made,” Rory said. “Can’t just buy another off a catalogue. Well, I could, there’s a catalogue that does sell uniforms out of all the big shows — you could buy any togs you want to there — but this one was, kind of, unique, mine, you know? Not out of the catalogue. I had it specially made, the whole uniform. It’s a perfect replica. I really don’t want to lose…”
“Don’t worry. I think I can safely say that a silver boot will pretty much overwhelmingly stand out in the usual mess of a hotel’s lost and found box. I’ll make sure they know to look for it.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it. Helluva party. Thanks for having me.”
“Thanks for coming along,” Dave said.
Rory lifted one semi — nerveless hand and maneuvered his mammoth piece of luggage out of the door.
Dave took the few steps that separated him from the reception counter and leaned on the polished wood. A blonde girl behind the counter looked up as he did so, and smiled.
“Anything I can do for you?”
“I don’t suppose you know if anyone found a single silver boot from a superhero uniform lurking somewhere in the shadows?”
In the Con Ops suite, the population had thinned out, and some of the computer stations had already been dismantled and packed away, while others were in the process of being logged off and wound down. Libby’s usual station was still up, but she was not present; at a glance, Xander could not see Andie Mae either, but he sat Al down in a clear spot on one of the sofas pushed into a corner and went to make coffee, the usual way, sparing a quick regretful thought for the replicator which had vanished from this room as well. It was hard to have one’s nose rubbed into the future and then having the door slammed into one’s face and being told one wasn’t ready for any of it yet. Xander felt he himself, at least, was plenty ready for a functioning replicator.
“Is it still as awful as Andie Mae said it was?”
“What was that?” Xander said, turning his head marginally from the coffee machine.
“The coffee. She told me to bring some good coffee, because the hotel stuff was terrible. I never did make it — I didn’t bring any with me even now — ”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Xander said carefully. “The coffee situation… was the least of our worries, in the end.” Something outside the room caught his attention even as the last of those words left his mouth, and his head swiveled to the door. “Excuse me a sec, I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t quite know what he had seen, or heard — but he had a feeling that Andie Mae was just outside. He was right, as it happened, but he didn’t quite expect to almost run her down as he stepped out into the corridor just as Andie Mae, who had paused to speak to someone, turned to go into the room.
“Hey, slow down, where’s the fire?” Andie Mae protested, fending him off, side — stepping him to get to the door of the suite. Xander flung out an arm to stop her.
“Wait — I wanted to give you a heads — up — Al’s back, he’s in there, and he looks somewhat battered. Not sure what happened. He said he was in an accident. He’s also talking about ‘evidence’ he’s got in his pocket, about this place going AWOL for the weekend, and I just thought — you’d better not blunder in there blind — given what happened — ”
“Given what happened?” Andie Mae asked sharply.
“Well, you kind of had a fling with Boss,” Xander said sheepishly. “Such as it was. And I thought…”
“Whose boss?”
That was Al’s voice, unexpected, from the doorway. Andie Mae looked blue daggers at Xander, who dropped his hand in resignation.
“I was just trying to help,” he said.
Andie Mae and Al stood staring at each other for a long moment, and then she sighed. “You’d better come to my room,” she said. “It isn’t what you think. Or what you’re spinning in your head right now. Long story, long and complicated, and it looks like you’ve got one to fling right back at me.”
“I’ve got coffee…” Xander began, but Andie Mae quelled him with another look.
“I have coffee in my room,” she said. “And please don’t send Simon to rescue me again, okay?”
“Rescue you?” Al echoed blankly.