Hysterium straightened up a little at that, glancin’ quickly from one of us to the other.
“Can you at least let me in on your plans? It sounds like you have something specific in mind.”
“Not really. Sugar,” I winked. “We’re just clearin’ the decks so we can work. The marchin’ orders are to turn a third-rate overnight hotel into the biggest tourist trap Deva has ever seen. Now will you get movin’ so we can get started?”
It took us quite a while to go over the blueprints. You see, buildin’ things had never been a big interest of mine, so it took a while to understand what all the lines and notes meant. Fortunately, Vic had studied a bit of architecture at one point when he was thinkin’ of givin’ up magic, so he could explain a lot of it to me . . .or at least enough so I could follow what he was talkin’ about.
“Let’s face it, Massha,” he said at last, leanin’ back in his chair. “No matter how long we stare at the drawings, they aren’t going to change. What he’s built here is a box full of rooms. The place has about as much personality as an actuary . . . which is to say, a little less than an accountant.”
“You gotta admit, though,” I observed, “the setup has a lot of space.”
I could see why our client was nervous. The place was plain, but it was five floors of plain spread over a considerable hunk of land. There was a lot of extra land for expansion, which at the moment seemed unlikely. Hysterium had obviously sunk a bundle into puttin’ this deal together, money he would never see again if nobody rented a room here.