ic contact

[idesof]

[ March's voicemail message will be the standard sort for a while, and expect replies from him to be slow/strange as he tries to understand this Modern Age.

TEXT | AUDIO | VIDEO | ACTION | MURDEROUS LOVE LETTERS ]

Comments

popping ur ic inbox cherry, backdated to early May

[brushoff]

My dear Mr. March,
Out of curiosity, is your hotel available for a wedding and reception early June?

[ guess who's getting hitched? dodo's getting hitched. ]

moans

[idesof]

[Approximately ten minutes later:]

Yesit is !

.

Dori an ?

voice;

[baetiful]

James, my friend. How has business been going for you?

[ How are the murders? Hope you're keeping the carpets clean! ]

voice;

[idesof]

Lord Baelish! [Bless him for not trying that terrible text function, seriously, James sounds both relieved and delighted to hear Petyr's voice.] Business is doing quite well, my friend, thank you for asking! And you? How are you faring?

05.29.2016 -- text.

[slightlyoffchilt]

James, good news! Raina has returned from her exportation. Perhaps we should plan to make good on the four of us having dinner?

[idesof]

[How can this man not have a black aura when he thrusts such wickedness upon March? Such potential! Wasted on not murdering everything nearby! Why? Why does this happen to bad people?

Approximately ten minutes later:]

tHAT IS VERY GOODNEWS ! cONGRATULATIONS ! i WILL INQUIREWITHTHECOUNTESSWHENINEXTSEEHERABOUTDINNERPLANS1

[Chilton's evil is so horrid March gives up

Perhaps he can spot where March

gave up]

voice;

[restingstitchface]

Good afternoon, Mr. March.

I imagine you are open to sensible requests, yes?

[Here, March. Enjoy your conversations with straw-people.]

voice;

[idesof]

[He enjoys them even more when they recognize his capabilities as the voice of reason, oh bb.]

Indeed I am, Doctor Crane, and a good afternoon to you as well. What can I do for you?

voice because she knows damn well not to text

[callhousekeeping]

James, we'll need to dispose of whoever is working the night shift at the desk. I've offered the job to Toby Matthews and he's accepted.

[idesof]

[Wife!!! Pardon him as he flattens down his hair like she can totally see him, she just has that sort of impact on him, let him live.]

Is that so? Wonderful work, darling! As for our front desk problem, perhaps you could have yourself a meal?

[hypodermicgurl]

[ There's no knocking in the Hotel of the Damned. Just Sally letting herself right in- or, if it's locked, letting herself be called in. There's no long time resident of this place that isn't in some kind of pain. March himself the king of it with his bitch queen always yanking his chain.

Still, once she's in the room she lets out a sarcastic- ]


Knock, knock.

[idesof]

[It's true, no one knows pain quite like James Patrick March. Sally will find herself coming across an almost laughably "normal" scene compared to what she has witnessed in the past. March is at his desk, combing over files, cigarette dying slowly in the ash tray at his side. Sally's voice has him pushing his current file aside and looking over his shoulder for her like this intrusion is the least surprising thing that could ever happen.]

Who's there?

[Such a kidder.]

voice;

[wizzardly]

[this probably isn't a voice March expected to ever call on him.]

Mr. March? It's Rincewind. I realize it's entirely possible I'm not supposed to call you directly to do this, sorry ahead of time, but - you mentioned once the Luggage and I would be welcome at your hotel?

voice;

[idesof]

[NO IT IS NOT which is why he answers with lightning speed compared to...well, if he didn't consider this a Priority. It helps that Rincewind mentions the Luggage. C'mere, murderous chestbaby he wants to spoil.]

Rincewind! Oh, yes. [So downplayed. He's basically the Koolaid man OH YEAH inside, but Rincewind doesn't seem to appreciate that so much, and if he's in a bit of a pickle it might not do to seem overly eager to hear about said pickle or help him out of it.] Certainly, certainly you are both more than welcome! And certainly free to contact me as you have. Never worry with that. We've rooms available at the moment. Would you like for me to put one down in your name?

[he can do that he is the boss

...he'll tell the staff afterward.]

08.07.2016 -- voicemail.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[After he heard this conversation.]

What? About what? Are you dead? Have you been dead this whole time?








This is Doctor Chilton, by the way.

hollaback girl call back;

[idesof]

[Probably fifteen minutes or so later, Doctor Chilton gets a call...FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE ooooh]

I apologize for the delay, Frederick. The answer to your question is yes.

8/13 Voicemail

[restingstitchface]

Mr March. Downstairs staff in the basement aren't that terrifying.

[Monsters are.]

text;

[idesof]

[In a very rare display of March using text, Crane will find this a few minutes later:]

Shall I meet you in the basement?

text;

[brushoff]

[ LIFE IS SHIT AND WILL GRAHAM IS SHIT AND EXPLAINING ORGANS IS SHIT so Dorian decides to just not deal with all of that for a moment and brag. hey March, guess what, guess what, he married.

He sends March a selfie, Dorian smiling up a storm with his left hand splayed in front of his face...and yes indeed, that is a ring on his ring finger, somebody's hitched. ]

Big ceremony will come later—Toby & I just wanted to get legal nonsense out of the way first. Make it official.

[idesof]

[when is will graham not shit

His reply isn't immediate, but it's not a garbled mess. Someone can be taught!]

Congratulations! Are you off honeymooning?

voice;

[baetiful]

[ As per this thread. ]

I am in need of your aid, James. For clean up. In the literal sense. Are you good at removing blood stains?

[idesof]

[Immediately, with just the smallest pinch of eagerness:]

Why yes, Ambassador. I have managed some skill in that area. Where would you have me?

voice;

[wizzardly]

Mr. March, hello again. It's, er, Rincewind. ...Again.

[here's hoping his, er, abrupt departure didn't leave any ill feelings between them. Before calling he did finally leave that hotel review March had requested last month, that has to be worth a few late points in his favor. Five stars, even. And a little comment about how soft the towels are.]

Anyway, right, um, so - I'm throwing something of a party for someone, Dr. Chilton, actually, and I've never done that before, and that one you threw at your hotel was so good, I thought maybe you'd be someone to call. For advice. ...Or numbers for caterers, or something. A band you can recommend. Right now all I've really got is a place and balloons.

[idesof]

[He has a place, he says. But it's not the Castile, now is it? Tsk tsk. What a rude you are, Rincewind. Very very rude. Fortunately March isn't so keen on making the rude his victims, so he's just quiet for a stretch before:]

You've come to the right place, dear, I can do all that. [But weighs in the air like a fog, despite the fact he doesn't say it.] You left us abruptly. Are you well?

Text

[pummelgranite]

What's it take to book that ballroom?

-P

[idesof]

A date and a request. You've already got one of two!

Murderous love letter aka delivery [ Forwarded to the 31st ]

[ghoulking]

[ Kaneki only celebrates New Years, so that's the day he'll be dropping off gifts. For March, he will leave a beautiful japanese handkive (Tanto) - Kaneki will make sure it's not sharpened. Just in case. Along with it there is incense and home-made mochi (rice cakes), as well a note ]

Mr. March, thank you for your kind help. This is a strange yet ironic world, and we are all strange and ironic creatures, in the end.
Have a good year.

- Kaneki Ken

DELIVERY

[musclemothers]

[March receives a bottle of scotch! It has Rusty's business card on it, and written on the back: Merry Christmas, and happy new year. To our future cooperation!

See? Making connections.]

Backdated to early December; Phonecall

[flowerette]

He took the bait.

[ No hello. No introduction to who they were talking about. Raina knows that March knows. ]

[idesof]

He did? [In that same pleased tone one might expect if Raina had said he'd proposed; oh yes, March is tickled and ever so ready for the next step in this glorious, wonderful process.] Congratulations! Have you selected a victim?

Letter!

[baetiful]

[ And now for a man who would definitely appreciate the old-fashioned. The message arrives for March delivered via mockingbird. Sealed closed by a wax mockingbird sigil, the letter is hand-written in careful cursive. ]

Dear, James -

I write to you on behalf of a project I am working on within our city. Construction has already begun on rebuilding a much larger library, but I wish for this to be more than simply a bigger structure. I know you, of all people, will appreciate a desire to make this the grandest center of information between our porter cities. And perhaps you will also appreciate that I have a desire to turn this into a memorial for natives who lost their lives due to imPort related tragedies. Their names will be honored within the library itself.

[ You can go ahead and laugh now, March. Maybe take some pride if you see some names you recognize up there. But mostly, Baelish imagines March's hard work will go without recognition. He's too good at this murder thing. ]

For that, I need your help. If you are able to donate anything at all to the cause, it would be most appreciated -- whether that is books, money, or simply your time. Especially your time. You have a flare for aesthetics like no other, and it would honor me greatly if you could help in the interior design.

I thank you for your time, and I do hope to hear back from you soon.

Your Friend,
Ambassador Petyr Baelish


[ OOC: You can feel free to just respond to this OOCly if March would donate anything or not! ]

[idesof]

Baelish will find that he's hit a sort of jackpot with March. For the next month, the Hotel Castile will set aside half its profits to donate toward this super noble cause. He'll put it in big check form and everything if Baelish wants that sort of publicity. March will also gleefully extend his knowledge of interior design, and will help make drafts and find trustworthy construction crews if he needs to, work alongside them regardless of time. The last will be a donation of an antique couch he'd found locked away in a storage room when he began redoing the Castile. It has since been reupholstered beautifully and appraised at just shy of a hundred years old. A gem of another sort but a gen just the same.

He does laugh, though. Laughter is a form of appreciation!

Physical mail ; backdated to 3/15

[exceptfebruary]

[ A black envelope with a black card in it, with a handmade gold leaf crown of leaves image on the front, and in simple gold ink handwriting on the inside: ]

Happy Anniversary.

[ While the card is unsigned, the envelope does have a return address. ]

GOOD MORNING BOYFRIEND

[notgneiss]

[does march still need to sleep as a ghost? shale hasn't needed to sleep since she was changed. she enjoyed it, to begin with. never tiring, never needing to worry about fatigue affecting her battle capability. then... she remembers the overwhelming darkness of being deactivated in the deep roads. not well, but it's there. shale very much imagines that's what sleeping is like, because she doesn't remember.

it's because of the fact she doesn't need to sleep that it's around five in the morning when she finds the castille after doing some searching. march had surely mentioned it before, even if not directly to her. as she had mentioned to him, she's fought ghosts before and the fact they even exist don't shock her at all. it wasn't a surprise that he had come back. what was a surprise, however, was the flowers. he'd kept calling it a date and she'd spent enough time frozen around humans to know what flowers meant.

it annoyed her. march had said he didn't want his castille damaged, so at five in the morning, shale grabs a poor passer-by and throws them with enough force to smash through the hotel entrance. there's not as much damage if she'd just punched in or thrown a bolder, but it's sure as shit noticeable. shale stomps into the lobby, paying no attention to the ammo who is, unfortunately, still alive.]

[idesof]

[The hotel is rather an outer shell for March these days. When part of it comes under attack, he knows, he feels it before anyone can tell him. He's lived in it long enough for his haunting to really settle in. For his evil to take root and curl about, to lay, to rise, to breathe, to take its own form...

So he's quick to appear when he feels part of himself, now, being shattered. At first he thinks perhaps an automobile has taken a bad course but of course not! So much better!

March appears just behind the front desk and moves around it quickly, looking up at Shale with more confusion and surprise than disbelief or anger. The last two are missing entirely.]

You have an interesting way of knocking, darling. I'd expect nothing less. [His friendly bellhop has already made an appearance, dragging off her ammo so there isn't an actual public murder. March, meanwhile, approaches Shale without a hint of worry.] You received the flowers?

CALL

[liverletdie]

[ Ring Ring. This call is midday, when he expects March to be at his phone. ]

[idesof]

[Once, twice, and then, in a clear, perhaps too-loud voice:]

Yes, hello! This is March — James March, owner of the Hotel Castile.

( text )

[thirdprogenitor]

Your hotel.

Is it possible to stay there for an undisclosed amount of time for a... nap?

[ A vampire nap that is. ]

[idesof]

Anything is possible within the walls of my hotel. You may stay as long as you like for whatever purpose you so desire.

Shall I call the coffin-maker?