This reminds me of the last anime con I went to (bear with, it DOES make sense.) The BF booked our hotel room, and picked out a super-fancy hotel cause we couldn't believe how low the rates were. I was skeptical but he said he was sure he checked all the fine print (He hadn't; it was way more expensive than we thought). The place was super fancy; like, chandaliers, valet parking, every dude you encountered was wearing a full tuxedo fancy. So this character is going to be biased by my/our experience there.
Stella couldn't get the bus boy out of the room fast enough; she pulled whatever cash was in her sweater pocket out - along with a crumpled m&m's wrapper, which she hastily stuffed back in - and smacked it into his hand while shutting the door. She then spun around, leaned against it, sat on the floor, and stared at the room.
Just like everything else here; it was big. Big soft pillows, big four-poster bed, big floorspace, big windows, big drapes. It all made her feel very small; like the roman-esque columns she'd had to walk past to get in; and the soaring ceiling in the lobby; and the band music drifting out from the restaurant. Violins.
She stood up, shakily, and felt utterly alien. She scanned the room for something familiar; even rich people were human, there had to be something here she'd feel comfortable touching or handling; but even the bed seemed to have a giant invisible 'peasants please keep off' sign. She bit her lip.
And then spied her duffel and backpack.
She leapt for them; the multiple key-chains on the backpack jangled as it toppled over, and she heaved the duffel up onto the bed herself, unzipping it and pulling the hastily-packed clothes out with relief. Familiarity washed through her as she smoothed and folded the clothes; sorting them and setting them in the drawer piece by piece. Her heart rate was down a bit by the time she was through, and she fished out her hygienic stuff bag to brush her hair; which had gotten a bit nappy on the long drive there.
She headed to the washroom; the toilet paper was folded in a little triangle. There was a bath cap included in the little hotel-size shampoo and soap tray. She giggled at the thought of some rich old guy wearing it in the bathtub.
Brushing out her wild brown curls was another familiarity, and she washed her face before turning around and flopping backwards on the bed, reaching into her pocket for her phone.
She did a quick Google search for restaurants, and quickly discovered that in this district, she had to specify fast food.
A Wendy's two blocks away; that was walkable. She wondered if the hotel would let her take such rabble-food inside, and decided she didn't care.
She checked the time; still an hour and a half to kill; plenty of time to get food and eat it.
As she headed out of the gilded prison, she felt her fears relaxing away. Who gave a shit what the staff thought; it wasn't her fault that she came in in a sweater and jeans instead of some business suit. She wondered if he would give the same condescending 'oh, that's so cute, she didn't have anything better to wear' smirk when he saw her clothes, and frowned. Nah, probably not.
The man was apparently rich as fuck, and she knew nothing else about him, but he had booked this place for her, and he had come all the way out to meet her. He WAS making an effort, even if he did leave it til after mom died. And besides, he couldn't hate her THAT much
he was her proper father, after all.
