::a lithe, nimble girl looks up from her place in the corner of the lobby, strands of long, dark hair falling into her face before she casually brushes it away:: Glad you're here. ::holds out a hand, shaking:: Venice Guidicelli. Unfortunately, Little Italy is going under severe reconstruction due to change in leadership—Which would mean, myself and Verona Marconi are running the place now, not Caramel and Cherish. The place needed a real fixer-upper, if you know what I mean—No one's fault, just... peculiar circumstances... It's a real hard thing to do and I think we're crazy for volunteering to do it. Understand? I hope you do. So there's nothing here right now, except for a few girls who've continued to stay here, some new members, and a lot of work to be done.
::stepping into the lobby comes a short, scrappy-looking girl, who opens her mouth to speak but them notices Venice has already explained the situation:: Sì, that's us. I'm Verona Marconi, the other one trying to fix up the place to make it fit the Union requirements. We're idiots. Bear with us, there's nothing here right now. Not much, anyway.
::nods:: We're working on it—What happened to Caramel and Cherish? I didn't know them, but I can't say that it didn't upset me. ::purses her lips:: Rather disturbing, I think. ::with a twitch, her eyes averting:: Neither of them are alive today, due to some particularly tragic circumstances.
Sometimes, late at night, you can hear noises coming from the washroom. Crying, things clanking around. It's haunted.
It is not.
It is! This whole place is. Whose idea was it to put this place in a decrepit hotel, anyway? ::folds her arms over her chest and shivers slightly . . . then proceeds to cross herself and whisper an Italian prayer::
::groans, raking her hand back through her hair before looking back to you:: Don't worry, it's not haunted. It's just in that state of disrepair in which things creak and look frightening when you're walking alone in here at night. Here, but if you're nervous about going around here by yourself, we can give you a tour. ::smiles, flipping open her notebook:: Could you just sign in, first? ::hands you a pen:: And once you've done so, you can read about the other guests here.
Formalities aside, we'll take you around to the bunkroom, first. That way you can meet the other girls—and the ghost—
There is no ghost!
There is!
And then, we can take you around to the parlor, which is where the girls here usually coagulate and talk.
Coagulate? My, aren't we being fancy . . . Do you even know how to spell that?
::thinly:: Yes. I do. We also have a library here . . . Or, rather, we will, once things get underway. We're working on setting one up. There, you'll be able to find the stories of the lodgers here, as well as information on Little Italy itself.
And . . . ::glances around again, scrunching her nose:: If this place doesn't suit your fancy, you can always head out to another, ah, fancier lodging house. ::growls softly:: If you think you're too good for us.
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