#oofisabel

two large suitcases in tow, nico’s already tense from the hideous interior of the hotel. the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he opens the door to his room. he’s horrified, mostly because he knows he can’t afford an alternative. at least there’s a king-sized bed. but as he steps into the room, he finds someone else’s luggage and a certain raven-haired woman standing by the bed. “ isabel..? ” he’s more irritated, than surprised, because of course a hotel of this calibre can’t even get administration correct. “ you are in the wrong room. ”

“ i would like to talk to your manager. ” this isn’t the first time he’s eaten out in america, but it is the first where the food has been so despicable it’s hardly been touched. so why should he tip when he doesn’t agree with the service? “ IT’S ! COLD ! ” he argues with the waiter, then he spots isabel and strangely feels relieved. “ ah, diaz, perfect timing. come over here and taste this cat food of a dish. ”

nico’s the type of person to check through his answers twice and leave the room early. ideally, he’d be the first one out of the door, and he usually is but this time he waits until the very end. it was painful. people start handing their papers in and nico follows suit, trying to get his timing right. then, he appears next to isabel, and he clears his throat as if to make his presence known. “ well, that was easy, ” he mutters, not to anyone in particular, but yeah, to her.