(Bold text was written by Jig, thanks for your awesomeness)

Rikki was vaguely aware that someone was shaking her hand. 

It was the big man himself, they guy who owned the estate. The man, David, had the sort of good looks that only wealthy people could afford. The luxury of expensive pampering. Backing him up was a group of people that he introduced one by one; Rikki had to hold back an eye-roll as Nathalie waved at them. There was nothing worse than someone else being in a playful mood while you were in a crappy one. Since the incident in the limo, Rikki had been trying to talk herself down from the ledge of total-freak-out with a small amount of success. 

Soon they were being led again, and as the doors opened to the splendor of the entrance hall, Rikki very nearly forgot her burgeoning insanity. The massive chandelier hung over them, and Rikki stared up at it like a chicken drowning in the rain. It was a beautiful thing, and she couldn't help but imagine a masked madman bringing it down on their heads and the end of Act One. Just as dumbly, she craned her neck down to see her own reflection in the very shiny floors. She almost didn't like standing on them, they were so clean.

Rikki noticed dimly that people were talking again. It upset her to learn that there was going to be a ball later on in the evening; she had been hoping to just trudge up for her room and decompress the rest of the night. The big boss man left, and Ingrid was telling them about their rooms now. 

[i]Yes, yes, thank you I got it no elevators keys go to the rooms got it just please[/i]

As Ingrid finished, Rikki jumped at the opportunity to get moving and ran upstairs as quickly as she could. She opened her door just as quickly and clamored inside, relieved to be away from all of the eyes, just for a little while. 

The room was massive, bigger than any hotel room she'd ever been in. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed how everything had been tailored to her tastes. The color palette of the room consisted of dark but comfortable and earthy tones, rich browns and thick reds. The furniture was all placed and used practically, no unnecessary extras. The couch was enormous, exactly how she liked it. Rikki was very grateful for that fact as she flopped onto the couch face first, her arm hanging down loosely and touching the floor. It was an incredible relief, to just lay there and think. 

[i]So you hallucinated. Big deal.[/i] Rikki blinked into the cushion. [i]You know what I bet it was? Jet lag. Sleep deprivation does crazy stuff to your brain, and the landing wasn't exactly pleasant. You haven't had a decent meal in a while, you're a little overwhelmed, so your eyes are playing tricks on you. [/i]Rikki found herself rather pleasantly agreeing with this train of thought, her jumbled thoughts settling already. [i]See? You're not a loon. Now, you're going to enjoy yourself from here on out, got it?[/i]

“Got it.” Rikki mumbled, her voice muffled by the expensive upholstery. She sat up as her thoughts finally balanced themselves, normalcy finally coming back. She giggled into the empty room as a thought suddenly struck her. Rikki ripped her shoes and socks off, determined to recreate a scene from one of her favorite movies, and to test out a cure for jet lag. She placed her bare feet on the carpet and curled them, grinning at the absurd level of dorkiness of what she was doing.

“Son of a bitch.” She laughed, stood up and headed for the bathroom. “Fists with your toes.” 
_____________________________________________________

Rikki stood in the great hall, feeling a lot better after a shower and getting into nicer clothes like everyone else. She wasn't much for gussying up, but her sister had helped her shop back home. A maroon blouse with mid length flowing sleeves hung on her shoulders. Below that was a simple but expertly made skirt; a long skirt, she couldn't stand short stuff. Somehow she had managed to put her hair up, too, though the one thing she refused to do was makeup. Rikki had never worn it, and she suspected that if she tried now that it would look terrible. 

She was just starting to wonder if anyone from the limo was around when she saw Benji, the sleepy blonde guy, heading straight for her as if he was looking for rescue from something. As he approached, she offered a little wave.

“Oh! Um, hi. Benji, right?”

[b]“English! Yes!”[/b] He exclaimed, apparently relieved at finding someone who wasn't Swedish. 

“Well, American really. Basically the same thing, right?” She shrugged, though truth be told she was also relieved to find some company.

[b]“Sure,”[/b] He held out his hand to shake hers, which she did with some pent up energy. [b]“We haven’t been properly introduced.”[/b]

“Oh, okay. So,” Rikki pointed to herself, “Rikki Dreyer. Waitress. Person who doesn’t belong here.”

[b]“If they put as much effort into getting you here as they did for me, I’d say this is exactly the place you’re supposed to be. Here,”[/b] He offered her the wine he was holding, apparently trying to get rid of it. [b]“Do you want this? It’s really really not for me.”[/b]

She shook her head, remembering the first and last time she ever drank. “Nope. Hate the stuff. All booze tastes like rubbing alcohol to me, even wine coolers. I’ve been buzzed once and only once. Never again.”

At her refusal, Benji pretended to be offended, making Rikki grin. [b]“Maybe you don’t belong here after all,”[/b] He tasted the wine again and made a face. [b]“No, that’s not happening. So did you get the whole briefcase-and-espionage treatment?”[/b]

“I did. These guys owe me a slushie, and a new carpet. Plus my sister’s cat hates me now. Jerks.” 

[b]“I think,”[/b] he nodded at their surroundings and his clothes. [b]“I can forgive them for the shock.”[/b]

“Point taken, but I don't think Clive will forgive me as easily. By the way, did you happen to wake up at all while Doctor Halibern was talking about what he actually does?” 

[b]“Doctor Halibern?”[/b] Benji stared at her, confused, before looking around them as if expecting to see someone with a stethoscope.

“You know, older guy. Kinda jumpy.” 

[b]“Oh, Old Guy. Not you, Dark Girl, or Other Guy. Old Guy. Gotcha. But no, no idea?"[/b]

“Well, to make a long story short, either he’s crazy or I am. He kept talking about Tibet and spiritual understanding and meditation. Kinda weirded me out.” Rikki looked around to make sure he wasn't near them. The gossiping made her feel a bit guilty. 

[b]“Oh jesus. We need a signal if he starts trying to convert us. I’ll do this.”[/b] Suddenly, he flailed his arms around wildly before looking around and realizing where he was. [b]“Or maybe not.”[/b]

Rikki put her face in her hand and laughed like an idiot, then tried to stifle it which only made it worse. “Probably not the best signal.” All at once she stopped laughing as something delicious caught her eye. “Be right back. Cheese tray.” Rikki rushed over to the tuxedo with the guy inside it, who just happened to be holding a tray stacked with samples. She grabbed as many as she could and returned to Benji, continuing the conversation like normal. “Ugh. I hate it when everyone around me looks like they’ve walked out of a fashion show. They’ve probably never eaten a burger in their life.” She popped one of the samples in her mouth, speaking through cheese. “The Swedes, I mean.”

[b]“Hey, you’ve done a good job with your...”[/b] He waved his hand at her blouse. [b]“Thing. Very red. Sorry, I’m used to cargo shorts and baggy hoodies. I don’t even know what you call this.”[/b] He pointed at the cummerbund wrapped around his waist. 

“I think it’s called ‘shiny belt thing’.” Rikki smirked; at least she wasn't the only one who wasn't used to wearing fancy stuff like this. As the people moved around them, Rikki thought it might be a good time to get a bit more serious. She had to see if anyone else felt like she did. She lowered her voice and asked, “Okay, can I ask you a question, for real? Do you think this thing’s on the level? I mean, the money, the passport pictures, and I never signed up for a contest. Do you think something else is happening here, or am I just paranoid?” 

[b]“Paranoid. Definitely.”[/b] Benji joked; apparently he didn't really want to discuss that subject right now. He was probably right, Rikki admitted, no telling who could be listening.

“Fine, be that way.” She sniffed, pretending to offended. “So, I admitted to you what my terrible job was, what do you do all day?” 

[b]“Tit around.”[/b] Rikki giggled. English humor always made her laugh. [b]“No, really. Starving artist. Busk if the weather’s nice, paint if not. I don’t make much but it beats [i]slaving for the man, ya knoooow?[/i]”[/b] He adopted a pretentious voice for the last part, imitating an art snob.

Rikki joined in. [i]“No one truly understands, you know? It’s all just a game to them, man.”[/i]

[b][i]“So how many of these you reckon work for the maaaan?”[/b][/i] he looked around at the Swedes around them. [b][i]“And who the hell are they?”[/b][/i]

[i]“Pff, they’re all sheeple, I just know it. Probably care more about their paychecks than real art.”[/i]

[b][i]“Nobody buys real art,”[/b][/i] Benji dropped the voice and looked sincere as he continued, [b]“I can sell a painting for a few hundred quid - that’s pounds - but it’s usually of some old dear’s grandson or a sunny english field. I can’t move in my flat for canvases that actually say stuff that I can’t give away,”[/b] He looked sheepish, realizing what he was saying. [b][i]“They just don’t get it maaan.”[/b][/i]

Rikki laughed, but dropped the act. “I’ll admit, I’m not really an art person. The closest to art you’ll find at my place is a movie poster. I prefer music and books.”

[b]“Music’s the same. I was in a band for a bit but all people want is karaoke or standard anthem-rock bollocks and I’m sure I don’t have to point out that a blockbuster is only as big as its female lead’s own personal blockbusters,”[/b] He made a vulgar gesture, or two, sending Rikki into a fit of snickers again. [b]“But look at me. I’ll blow my brains out this weekend if I keep like this.”[/b] He mimed a gun to his head. [b]“And if I don’t get a [i]decent drink[/i]. Can you see anywhere subtle I can dump this? A toilet, an alcoholic, somebody’s handbag?”[/b]

“How about that guy’s face?” Rikki pointed at one of the tuzedoed gents halfway across the room. She had nothing against the guy; she just didn't like his face.

[b]“D’you know, I’m gonna go out for a fag. I’m dying here and I’ll throw this bloody thing into the grounds if there’s nowhere discrete to stick it. Coming with?”[/b]

“No thanks. I’ll stay here, where the cheese is. Have fun smoking.”

[b]“Careful, dairy gives you cancer. But, hey, you can’t live forever. Come get me if anything happens.”[/b]

Rikki tipped her non-existent hat at him as he left. After a moment, she soon found herself wishing she had gone with him, if only to get out of this room. She sighed. Maybe she could hide under a table until this was over.