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[Spinal_Taper]

The man turned to the balding man, and said, in a rustic, drawling accent "Name's Spinal. Just rolled into town. What's yer story?"

[jc6036]

Jim walked through the lobby on his way to the basement to get the door, wiping a cut above his eye with his hand. Seeing the balding man and the rather eccentric man talking to him, he stops to chat.

"Oh, hello. I'm one of the landlords around here. How can I help you?"

[Ross Vernal]

"Name's Ross. Here on kind of a vacation, before I actually get to work." Ross chuckled, and moved his bookmark, closing War and Peace after he did so. "State Department. It's not the most glamorous of jobs, but the travel perks are good. This time last year, I was in Fiji. Wife sure liked that..."

He shifted in his chair a little, then leaned forward slightly as he pushed up his glasses with his right index and middle fingers, still grinning cheerfully.

"Your accent... Mississippi? Sounds like a buddy of mine back Stateside, hah!"

[Spinal_Taper]

Spinal turned around, and trudged back to the bench. He grabbed his trenchcoat, and put it back on. His eyes became downcast, his posture drooped, and the color of the area around him almost seemed to drain, to black and white. He began speaking, his voice suddenly dropping to a dark, raspy growl he said "Room for one please.". Hearing Ross speaking behind him, he turned to the man. "No. I'm a detective. New York.".

[Ross Vernal]

Ross laughed at that one, shaking his head at himself as he closed his eyes.

"Clearly, I'm bad with my accents! Shit, my bad, dude. Next thing you know, I'll be tellin' someone they sound like they're Middle Eastern when they're from England. Business or pleasure?"

Either the Northeast is just depressing as balls, or this man is NOT what he says he is.

He looked back up and opened his eyes, filling them with warmth and friendliness. He wouldn't Look at the man quite yet, but his third eye was tingling.

"Oh... right. I'm from California. Hard to not tell, I sound like everyone on TV."

[jc6036]

"That's fine, pick whatever vacant room you want. See Fniff about payment; he handles the money around here."

Jim continued on his way, going through to the basement and getting the door.

[Flying Dice]

Dice abruptly shakes his head, as if coming out of a deep sleep, and turns to Phantom, "S-sorry, I just... I mean, to answer your question, there were people. When things started happening, they wanted to talk to me. They had a black hood they wanted me to wear, but it was ugly, so I did things and ran away."

...

"Oh, he left..."

[Phantom of The Library]

Meanwhile back in his room, Phantom walks over to his backpack and pulling out his laptop, begins to check various webcomics while writing up a page of story ideas.  He closes the laptop after a few minutes and investigates the bookshelves, perusing for a good title to read before bed.  Then, when he attempts to pull one out, the bookcase swings around trapping him somewhere very dark.

[Flying Dice]

Dice walks back upstairs, returning to his room. He takes another swallow from his vodka before stumbling over a bag and faceplanting, the bottle rocking as it lands right side up. He falls asleep in a few moments, snoring softly.

[shadenight123]

"I'll take room H-311, if it's fine for you." Shade replies, "And hearing all the ruckus coming from outside, and inside, I'd say we are off to a wonderful start. Once more: do you accept payment in sou...gold? or you prefer cash?" as he replies that, a hand goes back into his internal pocket, and from there pops out a cheque, there is a symbol of a strange reddish and enflamed crab on top of it, reading:
*Magma Crab Bank, protecting your money from Hell, with love.*
"The amount for six months of rent?"
 

[ExKirby]

"Whoa, sorry. I phased out there. Eh.... I'll take D6. Or 6D. Whichever way around it is.

[Graknorke]

In a cheap, open-all-hours cafe on the outskirts of Moscow, a youngish man sits in front of a battered laptop, searching the vacancy listings of the local area. Looking down at his watery coffee, he decided he wouldn't have any more. While not having a fine taste for it, he knew that this coffee was certainly not worth what it had cost. Shifting to get his position, he knocks his backpack onto its side, and a series of lound metallic crashes can be heard from inside, as well as something small and fluffy being visible. Hurriedly, he pushes everything back in.
After about half an hour of straining himself to pay attention to the screen, he glanced at the copy of the newspaper on the table and found an advertisement that looked like it had been written in in pen.
"Rooms open in apartment block, best competitive rates around, nice surroundings.", And under that was a list of directions from the city centre.

The man closed his laptop and placed in in the satchel around his waist, hoisted the backpack over his shoulders and left the cafe, newspaper in hand.
He left the coffee.

[kingfisher1112]

Getting out a small defibralator, the lanky man gets the officer breathing again.
' Don't die unless I tell you to. '
Dialing the Russian equivalent of 000, The man walks into the lobby. Hello, manager please!
EDIT: Noncanon Derp. Don't do what I did.

[OscarComrade]

Oscar decides that he needs to get more supplies. Mostly vodka, but perhaps a few other things. He heads to a nearby store, kicking an incapacitated police officer in the chest on the way there.
He concludes that his red trenchcoat is simply too conspicuous, so he sells it, and decides to buy a classy suit and tie in traditional nondescript colors to replace it. He also buys a few shovels, which he is sure that he will need to continue with the plan.
And vodka. "VERY MUCH GOOD VODKA TONIGHT."

[Doomblade187]

Doom sighed as he relaxed in his newly moved-into room. He had just finished moving the furniture around, and now there was a simple bed and desk on one side of the room, and a coffee table and armchair on the other, with the giant chest by the window, locked. The room was freshly cleaned, and the window was slightly cracked to let some fresh air in.