Welcome to Gaia! ::

Have Alan get you topside; he can get you out in a flash if he sends you straight upwards, but you'll have to get to NY on your own, the gauntlets answered.

Paul stared at a terminal. He was not interested in working. He wanted a hotel room. He wanted a bed. He wanted a shower. He wanted a new t-shirt. He also wanted some glasses so he could see straight enough to really read stuff. This computing was going to be difficult. He went to the terminal, and began trying to figure out how to discover the location of a nice hotel.

Fyrin, meanwhile, realized he needed rest, but he didn't really have any money down here. A job wherein he spent a lot of time waiting; that would be good, that would be ideal. Waiting for a specific time would be better. He stepped up to his own terminal and began searching for something his team could work on, hopefully something involving a graveyard. He felt the need for reinforcements.

Joe groaned. Grahhh. Fine. Lots of help you are. Of course, he didn't really mean that. He definitely needed the gauntlets.
He quickly flew back to the others. "Alan, can you please get me topside? I need to get to New York ASAP."

Paul raised an eyebrow. Week for just one credit; that wasn't half bad. Now, a clothing store could be arranged once he got there.

"Oh Josh," Paul called. "How am I supposed to get there?"

Fyrin, meanwhile, stared frustratedly at his computer. If they wanted another hobo sitting around, Fyrin was fine with that. He'd rested worse places than the streets must be around here. But that was their doing.

Fyrin shrugged and gave it a shot.

Paul nodded, then... how did he get to the train?

A few minutes later he was at the train.

((BASE jump.))

His timing was impeccable; he caught the train just as it was about to leave, and the doors veritably shut on Joe's jacket. He'd give that back later.

Once on location, he maneuvered the oddities and catwalks involved with growing a city downward from the ceiling. The hotel he had selected was not apparent at first, but he found it quickly enough. A reasonably high-class establishment; it would more than do the job, especially given what he had (presumably) paid for it. It seemed prudent, however, to have a change of clothing before he actually went about the process of finally cleaning himself up. A quick trip and a few cheap t-shirts and shorts later, he was back in the hotel room and getting dressed. Finally something to wear that was a. his own and b. not Swiss cheese-ish. More importantly, a bed. He proceeded to make use of it.

Fyrin raised an eyebrow. "Is this discrimination against living status?" he inquired. "I mean, I used to vote. That was exciting," he added.

((Wull sheesh, I PM you and you LOG))