The way he questioned why I was standing at his doorstep was more than enough reason for me to roll my eyes in annoyance.
It was one thing to fall into debauchery completely but another to throw aside all your responsibilities. Sure, the mental commands I had left him with essentially amounted to me staying in my room for an unknown reason, but one needs to remember that we have a flight to catch to London in a little over an hour.
He should have already been packed and ready to go, but NOOO, instead, he was rolling around under the sheets with some random floozy.
"We have to go to the airport, Dad…you said to come wake you up…" Hiding the fact that I wanted to wring his neck like a cartoon character, I spoke with a little more maturity than usual, but it was more than enough to get through to the man.
"Crap, our London flight!" forgetting that I was technically only five years old and shouldn’t be left alone in a strange hallway in a foreign land, my father spun around and vanished back into his hotel room in a hurry, hell, had I not shoved my foot in the door to stop it, my father would have slammed it in my face.
’Alright, how about we peep on this floozy? Dad generally has good taste in women, well, with the exception of Amanda, so this one’s probably a hotty and, uh… 20 years younger than him.’
Suffice to say, when I headed into the large hotel suite and caught a flash of pale ass cheeks, I couldn’t help but nod in approval. The Woman was pretty attractive, with wide hips, a good ass, huge tits, and fiery red hair; all that was left was to see….
’I fucking hate the 90s,’ spotting the fluffiest red bush I’ve ever seen in my life, my eyes dulled a little bit because up until that little detail, she was on track to be a solid 10/10, but Nooo.
Smacking my lips and keeping close to the shadows of the room corners, I silently judged the floozy as she got dressed in a hurry.
From what I could see, the Woman, although rather attractive, hadn’t shaved below the belt in years, which was an instant turn-off for me, so much so that I turned around and left the hotel room without the Woman or my father even noticing I had been there in the first place.
Back out in the hallway, I quietly closed the door and made my way to the room positioned to the left of my fathers, pulled out the ancient-looking brass key I had stored in my inventory, and entered what should have been the place I would have stayed during our time in Edinburgh.
It was furnished nicely and seemed to match the theme of the famously luxurious Balmoral Hotel.
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The suite itself was about the size of a one-bedroom apartment and had expensive-looking drapes, fancy carpet, and plush furniture. It even had a small kitchen and dining area.
Closing the door and stepping fully into the room, I looked around for a moment before putting on a mischievous smile.
I mean, come on, how weird would it be for a five-year-old to be left alone in an expensive hotel room if it didn’t get messed up in some way or another?
So, of COURSE, I zipped around the room fast as fuck, pulling down the drapes and knocking over furniture; I even took all the toilet paper, towels, and other disposable items from the bathroom and either fired or flung them all over the place.
For a solid two or three minutes, it was absolute chaos in the hotel room as I systematically made the largest mess of something fancy I had done before.
By the time I wrapped it up, I stood with my back against the door and looked out over the room with a sense of pride for how big of a disaster I had transformed the place into.
Mind you, I was extremely careful only to cause surface-level damage, and anything that could be considered as ACTUALLY expensive, such as the paintings or vases, was left untouched or placed on something soft to pad their fall, thus although we would lose our security deposit, it wasn’t like the hotel could charge me for breaking anything extremely….expensive….
My eyes flicked to the Vase resting at an angle on one of the couch cushions, and I had the split-second thought to steal it…but I quickly wiped that idea away.
I knew between the 200-year-old paintings and the three vases, which probably carried a hefty 500k price tag, I could net quite a few Arc-Coins…but I still decided against it, knowing that if they suddenly disappeared, who knows how long it would take the police to trace it back to me.
Although I was living in a PRE-9/11 world, you still had to present your identifying information to the airlines when making a flight. I had even used my father as a proxy to book the hotel room, so odds were, if I DID take the expensive items, the moment we touched down in London, my father would be escorted to Scottland Yard for some intense interrogation.
’Hehh, never thought I’d see the day where I’d be dissuaded from Stealing easy loot…oh well, better not to risk it than face the consequences. The last thing I need is for my Dad to get carted off and then me be deported back to the United States alone.’ With a shrug of my shoulders, I picked up the small backpack and child-sized suitcase I had brought on the flight over for appearance’s sake and made my way back over to my father’s room, where I ended up plopping down and waiting outside the door in the hallway until he finally emerged, wearing a full suit, with the floozy trailing behind him.
When the redhead came out into the hallway and spotted me, she smiled, and I was subjected to the typical bullshit crouching down and talking to me like I was a baby.