(JOB) Clearing Out the Graveyard

Spoiler:

It was the dead of night when Arthur received a knock on his hotel room door. The incessant knocking rattled him up from his dream and into the waking world. His room smelt of musk, sweat, and just general dankness from someone being cooped up in a small space. The knocking was still pounding against his door, not ceasing after one or two hits in succession. Either Arthur was in serious trouble, or there was some type of serious trouble that Arthur needed to take care of. Given his current employment and growing reputation, it was much more likely to be the latter than the former. Everybody needed his help nowadays, and it's not as if he particularly minded, but him helping people didn't mean he wouldn't appreciate a good night's rest. Especially now that the hotel was charging him a living fee instead of just their rate for vacationers or temporary occupants, Arthur expected some peace in the bed that he was paying quite a good amount of money for. All of this combined made him seriously consider purchasing a proper apartment for his own, once he got the time for it of course. When his feet hit the cold boards, though, the anxiety of what he now recognized to be a nightmare seeped down into his core. Arthur was not used to nightmares, sure he hadn't even realized he had one until now. He knew, though, from how he was hesitant to move too fast, make too much noise, be seen by the unseen anxiety from his dream, that this residual feeling was from a nightmare. He was like it as a kid, whenever he'd wake up from a nightmare he'd stay scared in his bed, afraid that if he got up he'd disturb the monster and that it would attack. It unsettled Arthur to know that his own dreams could affect him so far into his adulthood.

Rubbing at his eye, Arthur sighed and flipped his hair over his shoulder. He had to look at least somewhat presentable when for whoever was bothering him at this hour of the night. The candle lacrima near his windowsill flickered with his movement, threatening to cast the cramped room into darkness. His hands shook as he turned the knob to the door. Goddamn it must have been a fucking nightmare. The last time he was ever this bad... Arthur stopped the thought, swallowed his nervousness, and opened the door. When he heard frantic knocking at his doors at odd hours of the night, he expected to see an equally frantic-looking person when he opened it. This was not the case, as the sight of the person in front of him gave Arthur quite pause. It was a man, probably Arthur's age, with the palest of skin he had ever seen. The man's hair was fashionable, short-cut in an updo parted to the side. His eyes were dead, lifeless, creepy almost with their glass-like appearance. The only part about his unknown visitor that seemed frantic was the splotches of dirt on his face, the torn nature of his leather clothes, and his general state of grunginess. The man was dirty with patches of actual soil, so to speak, and so there was obviously something on the go for somebody like that to be knocking on his door at the dead of night.

Blinking away his confusion, Arthur asked.

"No offence, but I was kind of sleeping. Your house better be burning down or something because I swear to god..."Arthur stopped himself there. This was his job, he helped people, he helped people regardless of if he wanted to or not, that was his code. Shaking his head, Arthur restarted. "Sorry, didn't mean it like that. Just a bit tired, that's all. Hope you don't mind my sleepiness, but what seems to be the problem?" Fuck, Arthur cursed at himself in his mind. He wasn't trying to be a total asshole, he was just grumpy that he got disrupted from his sleep. Although, it's not like the sleep was going to have been particularly restful considering his nightmare anyway. If anything, the disruption was probably a good thing, saving him from whatever his mind was tormenting him with. Dreams were weird, he just needed to get himself awake with a job and he'd be feeling better in no time. Yeah, that'd do it.

Seconds past with no understandable response from the man. Nothing, no quirk of a brow, no scowl, no blinking. Arthur strained to even hear the faintest of breaths. Naturally, his parasympathetic kicked into gear as adrenaline dilated his veins. What the absolute fuck was going on, was this man on drugs or something, maybe he had knocked on the wrong door? Dude looked like he was loaded off his mind. The eeriness of the situation quickly levelled as Arthur was woken by his adrenal gland's response. Definitely just some druggie that wandered into the wrong part of the hotel. He'd humor the guy though, in case the man had something important to say. The man's lips smacked and ripped flesh as they tore in absolute dehydration. This man needed some type of water, immediately. It would explain why the man looked as if he was stoned out of his mind, he was near death!

Alright, you go sit down on my bed let me go grab you some of my wate-"

A loud wheezing stridor filled his room as the man began to speak. Parched lungs crackled and rattled with near-death struggle as his pained words left his bleeding lips and haunted his room. "H-Help us, they are...... sleep.... Whitelilly Graveyar...." Half of the words he spoke were unintelligible from the rumbling and brokenness of his voice. Hard enough to understand as is, his almost whispering level of volume only made it that much harder. Instantly, Arthur's brow furrowed as he deciphered what the man had barely managed to croak out. Help at Whitelilly Graveyard? Arthur could do that, but first he needed to get the man a glass of water or something to stop that godawful sound. Entering into his bathroom, Arthur reached for a glass but stopped when he heard a heavy thud on the floor.

Rushing out back into the room, the man was laying unconscious on the floor. Arthur checked for the man's pulse. Nothing, the man was dead. This was going to be what would amount to a real nightmare.

WC: 1076, TWC 1076