A moment of silence befalls the scene. Jeannie glares down at you with twin dark blue orbs, apparently unhappy with your lack of an immediate response. Impatient clicks emanating from the collisions between the ledge of the table and her well manicured nails echo this sentiment.
Your initial shock of Jeannie's insane proposal soon gives way to anger. You find yourself wondering how Jeannie could expect you to make such a decision on a whim, given all the dangers involved. It strikes you as rather selfish on her part, actually. The thought that this brat expects you to risk life and limb just because she was suffering from an affliction of boredom infuriates you. Such immaturity you can not tolerate, and you know of only one way to deal with it.
Your bottom lip overtakes its counterpart slightly, puffing itself outward. You intersect your arms across your chest flamboyantly. Glancing up at Jeannie, you roll your eyes annoyingly. You promptly turn your back on her. For added effect, you loudly utter "Hmph!".
"So I guess you're NOT ready yet", Jeannie states calmly, "That's okay, though. I'm sure you'll be good to go by the time you wake up".
You begin to turn around, about to ask what she meant by when you wake up. Halfway through your venture, you notice Jeannie's right arm has moved from its perched position. In the ensuing search for the missing appendage, you instead find a charging backhand. Before you can brace for impact, your head is bashed by a callous mound of bone wrapped in a thin layer of red, cracked skin. The painful connection sends your minuscule body soaring through the air for a good while. Your fall is broken by an impressionable mountainous surface. As you fall forward toward the dark green expanse below, blackness envelopes your vision.
Pushing yourself away from the soft, pampering plane, you jump to your feet. After taking a moment to walk off your state of disorientation, your eyes explore your surroundings. As Jeannie had said, this was a hotel room, though she was long gone at this point. You are standing on the lone bed in the room, a golden pillar erecting shaded light strategically placed beyond its foot. Smaller adjustable lamps line the walls of the room. A movie theater-esque television sets atop a bulky dark wooden dresser, adjacent to the table from which you were knocked. The doorway is shielded from view by a premature corner in the white wall.
A loud beep takes you by surprise. You recognize the accompanying clicks and clanks as the turning of a door knob. You take refuge behind the nearest pillow. Your eyes focus on the corner as the guest(s) enter the room.
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