Ryan feels like he's been sleepwalking through the last hour or so.
He doesn't know what he was doing before he was standing at the reception desk, apparently checking into a hotel room. His head feels like it's full of static, but manages to give them a name after a too-long moment of searching for it amid all of the sudden and new sensory input. He spends a long time staring at the receptionist as he's checked in, trying to suss out what feels weird about him, only to realize it's a person behind the counter. He can't think of much, but one memory that floats to the surface is a place like this populated entirely by large bugs.
He's stopped paying attention to look down at his own decidedly not-bug hands. He's not supposed to be a bug, right? ...Yeah, definitely not. So maybe it's not that weird.
It's then that he realizes the Receptionist has been holding out a key and looping the same general welcome on repeat while Ryan just ignored him to stare at his own hands. Whoops. He takes the key and thanks the guy, and disappears up to his room.
Ryan stays up there for a solid hour just kind of looking at everything, touching things, exploring what was left for him. The closet's pretty cool, but it takes him a while to puzzle out what he wants to wear. Eventually he goes for a loose white button-down, blue jeans that have weirdly artful scratches in the knees, boots, and most importantly a red and black jacket with lots of fringe.
He looks at himself in the mirror when he's done and feels better for it - that looks like him in the mirror, even if he's having a hard time remembering much else. Time is spent making faces and different expressions, reuniting himself with his outward appearance.
After that, he's a little more grounded and decides to spend some time just hanging out in the lobby, seeing if anyone else mysteriously shows up (be they bug or human). Maybe it'll be someone he recognizes, or someone who recognizes him. He'll even flag people down once he spots them, fringe of his jacket fluttering like flags.]
Hey, uh. Did you just get here too? Like, out of nowhere?
[His instinct, now that he's settled, is to find others. Something feels deeply wrong about being alone that he can't put into words.]
B. PUT ON YOUR DANCING SHOES (The Cactus Pad Saloon)
[You know what's usually full of people? A saloon! Plus, it sounds pretty fun in there, and what else is he going to do, sulk by himself? Nah. Hard pass. Time to check out the saloon.
He doesn't remember his drink preferences, but he remembers how to be friendly and charming, so he tells the bartender to just give him whatever she recommends. It's familiar and not familiar at the same time, which is a little uncomfortable, but she gives him a whiskey sour and he sticks with that when he orders for the rest of the night.
Has he had alcohol before? He's definitely been in a saloon, so he wants to say probably, but whatever is in this drink (presumably whiskey and, you know. Whatever sour is) is really good. Ryan was already friendly before this, but he feels looser and more free. Warmer. And everyone else seems to be the same. He's totally happy to get up and dance with anyone and everyone, even trying to get more hesitant folks to join in. C'mon, dance with him! He has a decent sense of rhythm and won't step on your feet. He doesn't recognize any of the music, but that doesn't really matter much to him as long as he's having fun.
It's a good night, and a fun night. Getting to be social really recharges him.]
C. CLOSING TIME (The Cactus Pad Saloon + The Staywell) (cw: drunk)
[See, there's a reason amnesia and alcohol probably shouldn't mix.
You could say it's the possibility of a brain injury and like, that's probably right. But there's another problem. With no memory of drinking before this, Ryan has no memory of what his limits are either.
He's mercifully cut off after four or five drinks (was he supposed to be counting? Is that what you do when you drink???) by either the bartender herself or a kind soul who noticed him swaying just a little too much. When closing time hits it feels sudden to Ryan, and he gently whines to keep the party going, but doesn't put up much of a fight. Everyone else is leaving and being here alone would suck. So, he stumbles out with the rest. If you're near him, he will happily link his arm with yours (friendliness masquerading as a way to keep his balance) and laughs.]
That was-- that was sooooo much fun. Good party!
[After a little more giggling, he'll ask:]
Are y'...hotel? [Fuck. Let's try that again.] Are you going to the hotel? The Staytel?
Ryan Akagi | Infinity Train
Ryan feels like he's been sleepwalking through the last hour or so.
He doesn't know what he was doing before he was standing at the reception desk, apparently checking into a hotel room. His head feels like it's full of static, but manages to give them a name after a too-long moment of searching for it amid all of the sudden and new sensory input. He spends a long time staring at the receptionist as he's checked in, trying to suss out what feels weird about him, only to realize it's a person behind the counter. He can't think of much, but one memory that floats to the surface is a place like this populated entirely by large bugs.
He's stopped paying attention to look down at his own decidedly not-bug hands. He's not supposed to be a bug, right? ...Yeah, definitely not. So maybe it's not that weird.
It's then that he realizes the Receptionist has been holding out a key and looping the same general welcome on repeat while Ryan just ignored him to stare at his own hands. Whoops. He takes the key and thanks the guy, and disappears up to his room.
Ryan stays up there for a solid hour just kind of looking at everything, touching things, exploring what was left for him. The closet's pretty cool, but it takes him a while to puzzle out what he wants to wear. Eventually he goes for a loose white button-down, blue jeans that have weirdly artful scratches in the knees, boots, and most importantly a red and black jacket with lots of fringe.
He looks at himself in the mirror when he's done and feels better for it - that looks like him in the mirror, even if he's having a hard time remembering much else. Time is spent making faces and different expressions, reuniting himself with his outward appearance.
After that, he's a little more grounded and decides to spend some time just hanging out in the lobby, seeing if anyone else mysteriously shows up (be they bug or human). Maybe it'll be someone he recognizes, or someone who recognizes him. He'll even flag people down once he spots them, fringe of his jacket fluttering like flags.]
Hey, uh. Did you just get here too? Like, out of nowhere?
[His instinct, now that he's settled, is to find others. Something feels deeply wrong about being alone that he can't put into words.]
B. PUT ON YOUR DANCING SHOES (The Cactus Pad Saloon)
[You know what's usually full of people? A saloon! Plus, it sounds pretty fun in there, and what else is he going to do, sulk by himself? Nah. Hard pass. Time to check out the saloon.
He doesn't remember his drink preferences, but he remembers how to be friendly and charming, so he tells the bartender to just give him whatever she recommends. It's familiar and not familiar at the same time, which is a little uncomfortable, but she gives him a whiskey sour and he sticks with that when he orders for the rest of the night.
Has he had alcohol before? He's definitely been in a saloon, so he wants to say probably, but whatever is in this drink (presumably whiskey and, you know. Whatever sour is) is really good. Ryan was already friendly before this, but he feels looser and more free. Warmer. And everyone else seems to be the same. He's totally happy to get up and dance with anyone and everyone, even trying to get more hesitant folks to join in. C'mon, dance with him! He has a decent sense of rhythm and won't step on your feet. He doesn't recognize any of the music, but that doesn't really matter much to him as long as he's having fun.
It's a good night, and a fun night. Getting to be social really recharges him.]
C. CLOSING TIME (The Cactus Pad Saloon + The Staywell) (cw: drunk)
[See, there's a reason amnesia and alcohol probably shouldn't mix.
You could say it's the possibility of a brain injury and like, that's probably right. But there's another problem. With no memory of drinking before this, Ryan has no memory of what his limits are either.
He's mercifully cut off after four or five drinks (was he supposed to be counting? Is that what you do when you drink???) by either the bartender herself or a kind soul who noticed him swaying just a little too much. When closing time hits it feels sudden to Ryan, and he gently whines to keep the party going, but doesn't put up much of a fight. Everyone else is leaving and being here alone would suck. So, he stumbles out with the rest. If you're near him, he will happily link his arm with yours (friendliness masquerading as a way to keep his balance) and laughs.]
That was-- that was sooooo much fun. Good party!
[After a little more giggling, he'll ask:]
Are y'...hotel? [Fuck. Let's try that again.] Are you going to the hotel? The Staytel?
[Staywell, but you know what? Close enough.]