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Everyone's heads turned in astonishment as a man clad in black with sharp, defined features and freshly slicked back hair strode through the Continental's doors; his very presence radiating superiority which dominated the lobby's inhabitants struggling to avert their unwavering attention. Continuing across the pristine checkered floors glistening beneath, a wave of excruciating familiarity crashed over John like a tidal wave as bittersweet memories pulsated in and out of focus; sterilizing his face from any hint of human emotion.
"Hello, sir. How may I help you today?" A familiar, accommodating voice asked as John approached the front desk; causing his over stimulated thoughts, previously drifting freely through his past, to stumble back into reality.
"I called ahead. Reservation for John Wick." He briefly explained while the manager intently scanned the computer screen with his deep brown eyes resting behind a pair of simple spectacles.
"Ah, yes. I have you for two nights." His voice chimed as the realization of dipping his toe back into the black, inescapable waters that once drowned him pounded against his skull.
"Depending on business, it may be more." John vaguely added verbally acknowledging the ominous uncertainty of the mission at par, earning an understanding nod from the dark skinned man residing behind the desks closure.
"That's not a problem, sir. We're only at sixty percent capacity. Just let me know should you choose to extend your stay." He reassured with a hospitable tone that reaffirmed his statement while John's attentive eye took notice to visible renovations; the sleek, modern interior design changes still maintaining a sense of quintessential, refined taste.
"Y'know, I haven't been here in years. When did the old girl get a facelift?" He inquired trailing his scanning eyes back towards the front desk with a softly cocked brow, a slight hint of interest lacing his tongue.
"About twelve years ago." He estimated as John gently nodded his head in response, his peripheral vision noticing the continual peak of interest burning in the eyes of his engrossed observers.
"Same owner?" John continued as the sudden turning of heads and muffled chatter alerted both him and the manager, putting their conversation on holt while the assassin turned his profile towards the suspected source.
Previously (Sloan's POV )
"No way, I work alone. Non negotiable." I harshly objected while roughly shaking my head full of fiery red hair, nearly laughing at the words transferring from the phone into my ears; finding it humorous that Winston off all the people, someone who knew my reputation, who knew how I've always operated, would conjure up such a ludicrous idea.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice." His elegant British accent countered as I dropped the back of my head flush against the leather seat, sealing my eyes shut in frustration as a disgruntled huff split my firmly pursed lips in two; the only sound drifting in and out of my ears consisting of muffled sirens and chaotic city life in the distance meshed with a silky hum vibrating the interior of the car. "Huff all you like, just get the job done." He added as every alarm within my inner being went completely haywire, causing every firing neuron inside my brain to try and formulate a way to persuade him against his foolish notion.
