•The Shake Up•

[belle]

Busy bee was probably the new name she would give herself had Belle ever wanted to change identity. Ever since these Flight 815 survivors took residence in this hotel, reporters kept calling and trying to sneak by for information, there just seemed to be no ending to it. It was a little hard to keep up the being nice part of this job when she could swear the same one tried for like the tenth time, being a persistent one. And the same one that had gotten her in some deep crap when he came by after that DriveSHAFT bass nearly drugged himself to death in this hotel. The reporter was just so concerned and chatty. And her mouth let a little too much slip. She just strongly hoped nobody, especially Liam Pace, wouldn't find out and sue her or something.

Belle was at a loss at what to keep telling these people. Stress wasn't her cup of coffee, and right now she was really praying for some alcohol. Any alcohol. Sadly drinking on the job was a big no. She was here to represent this hotel and she really couldn't afford any more messing up. This job paid her bills and bought her things, losing it would be counterproductive.

Sighing she just kept up her position at the reception-desk, assisting the residents in their concerns. Trying to watch out for any overly curious individuals, though the chances she would spot a reporter that wasn't too known by general population of Los Angeles were zero to none. Asking questions was human nature, and Belle wasn't feeling like suspecting every person that dared ask a few questions of being a reporter. So, to avoid conflicts, she just very lamely tried to pretend she wasn't any wiser than them. Better than making life more difficult for these people who apparently went through a lot.

Finding herself having to place a special dinner order for someone in room 49-B, her steps took her to the kitchen, where she expected the chef not to be too pleased about that. Everyone in here felt the stress a bit too much. Celebrities usually brought this as well, but not in such amount as now. At this point a reporter stampede through the entrance wouldn't be that big of a shock. Hopefully the security wouldn't let that happen, because by now she was a little scared. Coming back to her usual post, she smiled as her companion through this madness, Natalie, announced she needed five minutes to freshen up. "Sure. Whatever, Nat." She replied, watching her leave. That is up until a cough brought her out of her reverie and her head turned to yet another person to serve.

"How may I help you?" She asked with a polite and many times rehearsed in front of a mirror smile, her blue eyes looking over the newcomer.

[leandra]

Leandra still couldn't believe she was finally in Los Angeles. After all this time. When Flight 815 had crash landed, she didn't think she'd survive, let alone be rescued. It hadn't been easy coming back to civilization when they were finally in Los Angeles. All of the survivors to her knowledge had taken over this hotel. She sympathized with the staff, it couldn't be easy meeting the demands of a lot of upset and confused people. Leandra tried her best not to annoy the staff as much as possible, everybody else seemed to be doing that for her.

Her mind suddenly cast back to the moment the flight crashed, and she started to shake a little. All she could hear were the screams of women and even some children. Her eyes started to well up with tears, and her head started shaking from side to side. She honestly thought she was over this, but obviously not. Maybe she needed to see a counselor or therapist to help her get over these problems. However, as quick as she drifted back, she came back to the present day, shook her hair, ran her fingers through her hair and thought of trying to find her father, a much more pleasing prospect.

Leandra wanted to try and track her father down, as she knew he was in Los Angeles somewhere, but she had lost all her luggage when the flight crashed, and her mobile phone which stored all her important numbers. She didn't know her father's telephone number at work, nor did she know his mobile number, but she did know where he worked. She was hoping if she asked at the reception they might be able to help her find the number, or at least, let her know where the bank was her father worked.

So it was with some confusion and regret she took herself down to the reception area to speak to the girl who always seemed to have a smile on her face regardless of what seemed to be going on around her. She timidly approached the desk and gave a little cough to get her attention. She wasn't sure what to say, not even sure any words would come out. After everything she had been through, she just wanted her father.

When the girl turned and gave her a smile, Leandra's heart warmed slightly and she smiled back. "Hello" she started, and then took a quick look around before continuing. "I wonder if you could help me. You wouldn't happen to know the telephone number for HSBC Bank in the city center please?" she asked as kindly as she could.