Xanatos' Curse

Chapter 4: Trapped

Abigail watched the sunrise from a balcony at the Fairmont hotel. It was really a beautiful hotel, she thought to herself as she watched the marine layer cling to the city below like frost to glass.  She sipped her tea, leaning against a lattice patterned cement railing, staring at a sky scraper that looked like a tip of a spear driving into the sky. 

She started planning out her day. Tomorrow was the conclave. More excited for what tomorrow would bring, she instead drifted to how she thought the event would unfold. Specifically, she wondered what she would say when she met the one who was responsible for all of it; she pulled out the brochure she had read on the plane and looked at the signage on the bottom, - AX.

She would meet him. She didn't put her life on hold; plans for university, saying goodbye to her friends and family, and stalling the projects she had begun within the UN Youth Delegate Programme to be denied. In fact, the only reason she accepted the invitation in the first place was to meet with the 'founder of the feast', so to speak, and talk him in to using his pull to help her implement some new changes within the UN. 

By the time she had finished planning her approach to a multibillion dollar mogul she had circled the small patio a handful of times and was now sitting at a small French table, her empty tea cup already cold in her hands. Then the double doors behind her were thrown open by a boy about her age, wearing glasses, black skinny jeans, and a white long sleeve shirt with a vest and tie printed on the front. Abigail reacted, but not as much as you'd assume given the look of hysteria on the boys face. He closed the doors behind him and leaned against them, as if someone else would be following right behind him. 

'"Are you supposed to be up here?" Abigail asked, not impolitely. 

Shame bit Abigail's conscience when she glimpsed the hurt that shadowed the boy's eyes immediately after her question. 

"No..." Osama said, more to himself. 

His angst seemed to deflate for a moment. Then, he shook the honest moment away. He smirked as if their spontaneous introduction was getting a do over. His laugh came out genuine,

"My B. I didn't mean to interrupt your morning ponderings... or whatever you all do up here. I'm with the uh...wait staff, and I just wanted to make sure you weren't being bothered by any of the other cretins who work here." Osama thumbed behind him. "Also, your room looks clean. So, great job." He gave her two thumbs up. 

Abigail tried to keep up with his quick change of pace, 

"Oh. You must mean all the ones around here who wear the real ties. Bunch of sticks in the mud." She smiled genuinely, "I quite like your getup. Much easier to pack for travel." 

Osama looked down as if recognizing what he was wearing for the first time.

"Oh right! Um...ya, today was dress up like high schoolers day, in celebration for all the stupidly smart kids coming...which I should probably go, so I can prepare to bow when they arrive, and applaud them for solving world hunger or something." He laughed at himself.

Osama walked quickly past Abigail and over to the cement latticed border of the balcony. He looked down. Fifteen feet below was the hotels pool. It was a long rectangle with dozens of white patio furniture neatly arrayed around it's white marbled bordered edges. 

Abigail followed his movement, but stayed where she was. She was beginning to like this little intrusion. Whoever this boy was, he was certainly flustered but she liked his blunt honesty. She didn't try to stop whatever it was he was doing. 

"Well then I guess that makes me one of the stupidly smart people. But please save your bows and applause for the ones who really deserve it." she giggled