Odd, Ross thought of l'Hotel Déguisé's atmosphere. The place seemed as though it should be freezing inside, but it was perfect room temperature. Bewitched, probably. Ross could hear the steps the group made, echoing as they walked to their rooms, just as the ugly premonition he had about his likelihood of sharing a room with Will. When the porter jumped ship and disapparated, Ross knew his fate. He almost cursed aloud.

	Will pushed the key into the lock, and he opened the door. Slowly, Ross trudged in behind, wondering why the hotel didn't give the group two keys for each room and already considering the logistic issues involved. Now, the room was quaint inside, but Ross wouldn't necessarily dub it luxurious. However, he was just an uncultured half-blood, and he'd never heard of this hotel in his life. His new green trunk showed itself at the foot of the bed across Will's in perfect timing, and Will opened that mouth of his.

	"No," Ross answered Will, making a long and wide motion with his wand. "I've nary been out of the country unless you count moving to America as a 'vacation'." In conjunction with his wand, the green, somewhat ordinary-looking trunk unpacked itself, and the contents held within jumped from the luggage into two neat piles: one for clothes, which landed on the bed, and another for various knick-knacks, which stacked itself on top of the clothes pile. Ross ran a hand through his hair, and he combed through some of the things on the bed.

	Tracing the edges of a keepsake of his with his thumb, Ross tossed back some smalltalk. "I didn't know you spoke French. Does that mean you've been here before?" He looked up at Will as he said this. Ross might not have wanted a room with Will, but only for the fact that Ross found Will incredibly annoying. Will meant well, Ross understood, but bloody hell, [i]sometimes[/i].