[Video opens on the lobby of a hotel in art deco styling before James Patrick March comes into frame, wearing a tuxedo with a black cravat instead of any bowtie. He takes a look around before standing in what he seems to assume is the middle of the frame...before rethinking this and taking a few steps to the side. The camera follows. This puts him at the front desk. He puts a hand out to strike a relaxed sort of pose that definitely isn't a pose but looks like a pose that is trying so hard not to be one.
How do I look?
[The camera man's voice is recognizable to those who have been to the Castile before, a particularly foul-mouthed bellhop who has a different name every time you ask.
]Freakishly overdressed. Like always.
Thank you. Please, tell me when you're about to start. Give a countdown, perhaps?Nah. It's already runnin', boss.
[March's jaw tenses, his eyes have a glint. This is not the look of a happy boss. But it passes as quickly as it's there, replaced with a charming smile that comes across as completely genuine.
Hello. My name is James Patrick March, and this is my hotel. [He gestures around, looks up.
] The Hotel Castile. I've been extremely honored to meet many of you, and am positive
there are many more I've yet to meet I would be just as honored by. On that note, any imPort who finds themselves in need of a place to stay in our fair city of Maurtia Falls will be granted half off any room here they'd like, standing offer as long as I captain this ship.
[His smile falls a bit, indicating a switch of topic to something more serious. And as March speaks, the video function slowly zooms in, first on his cravat, then over his head to focus on an EMERGENCY EXIT sign. March continues to speak, obviously unaware his camera man is such a little shit.
Recently, I've come to realize there are quite a few in our population like myself. Like the people I
know. I make no secret that I am a ghost, but ghosts were not all
that haunted the hallways of my home. Ghosts, those beautiful creatures who needed blood to survive, witches, psychics, we had a little bit of everything! And, damn it all, I do
miss it. So I would like to offer a more personal
invitation to all you fantastic, lovely folks who fall into those other
categories. Room and board, food and drink, simple conversation, name it, we pride ourselves on discretion and confidentiality here, and I've rather a craving
to add familiarity into that list.
[The camera moves about to literally anything that is not March — it takes an interest in two women coming out of the elevator, in staff going about their business, anything happening behind him so it doesn't appear obvious that March is not really in this picture.
I believe that was all I had to address today. Hm?S'all you told me, Jimjam.
Charming — cut it, won't you?Yep.
[Except...he doesn't. Not immediately, anyway, the Network is treated to a good twenty seconds of one of the staff on break eating a sandwich. Nothing really fascinating, but there are some men who simply should not be trusted to record literally anything.
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