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"Really? Oh, sorry ... I don't have a car either, so I walk most of the time. Maybe we can find one? Or can you fly?" He asked naturally as they were nearing the hotel. Jericho didn't make a habit of walking long distances either, he was just physically very fit. Not to mention it was somewhat impossible for someone who didn't breathe to be winded anyway, right?

"Really? That's handy. I can't fly. I fall really fast though, but it's not so useful. Thanks." Jericho awkwardly shoved himself past the door, and to the elevators. "Is it very taxing? I mean, your magic?" The bags sat on the floor for a moment as Jericho looked in his pocket for his key card. It easily slid into the slot, and the elevator door soon opened, ready to take them to the appropriate floor; the last.

"Uh? Oh, it's an elevator. Pulls you up, instead of having to use stairs."

Jericho didn't frown, but inside, he did wonder for a second if he picked the right person to show him how the world of humans worked. Had she never been on an elevator before?

Ding. The doors open.

"here we are! Okay." After he stepped out, he left both bags on the floor, and reached in his pocket. "So, here's a set of key for you. It opens the front door and one of the bedrooms. That way, you can be sure I won't sneak in your stuff." He called them keys, but they were really just featureless metallic tubes; electronic keys. "They work just like regular old keys. Oh, and you're not allowed in the second house. I keep the key to that one. Is that okay?"

"Is this your first time in a penthouse?" He nodded to the edge of the grassed roof, made to resemble a garden. "Go look for yourself. Just don't jump over the fence."

The houses were like miniature bungalow versions of the hotel itself. The inside of both were richly decorated, and held three bedrooms, each with their own conveniences, a larger bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and a walk-in waterfall shower, as well as a sauna. The kitchen had everything one would need to do his own cooking, with a refrigerator Jericho filled himself with ... somewhat weird stuff. A simple button press would call a meal straight from the hotel kitchens, however. Everything was nicely set around an ample, comfortable living room.

And while Merdice was admiring the view, Jericho was already inside.

"Uhuh ... alright." Jericho was in the main room. The grocery bags were set upon the kitchen counter, and the television was turned on, although silenced. "You want me to ... no? Are you sure he'll ... alright. Call me if he needs help, I'm only a few minutes away. Uhuh, okay. Signing off."

He was on the phone. At least, he had been, because he flipped the cellphone closed a few seconds after Merdice had entered. He turned to her and smiled, wagging the phone up for her to see. "Boss called. Always working, you know?"

The young man threw himself down upon a couch and gave a glance to the television, before sending his attention back to Merdice. "Erm, I just thought ... you don't have bags or anything?"

"I still gotta act like I do. Gotta look like I fit in, you know?" He explained as she asked. Except, the look on her face betrayed something more. "What's wrong with peanut butter, though? I thought ... I mean, I heard it was edible? I saw a guy one morning put it on some bread ... but bread tastes disgusting." He grimaced, and continued. "Well yeah, groceries, normal people get groceries. It was my first time! It was a little exciting, grocery stores are so colorful." The young man went around the counter to retrieve his book.

" I have to stop getting distracted."

It was true, his search was failing miserably, but only because Damion had never seen some of the things that he had seen these past two days, the peoples dancing in large groups, the drum based music, and the curious cuisine. His only excuse right now was that it was dark and thus the sunglass stores were closed. He sat upon a breaker wall, the city street to his back and the ocean stretched out infront of him. Small fires dotted the sands, creating aura's of light and life that people clusted around, various musics being played in such a way that the drums seemed to flow into the same beat, rising high into the air and beckoning the feet to dance.

Damion had bought a frozen treat, something he suspected was like ice cream, minus the cream part. It tasted of pineapple and came in a small styrofoam bowl and plastic cup, which he was using to scoop the tasty treet into his mouth as he stared at the people dancing. Damion's people themselves didn't dance, but he had seen many different styles around on his trips and on the tv during HoH, his favorite so far being the hip hop styles and break dancing. What he was watching was similar, in that it was dancing, but in most other respects it was different.

Everyone moved in unison, perhaps 5 or 10 people in a group, each doing the same move as the person next to them. He found it oddly entrancing, and found himself wondering if he could pull off those same moves. It was possible, but he was more interested in the capoera dancers further towards the water, their white pants reflecting the light brilliantly and helping him to pick them out. Their bodies moved like renegade tops, and Damion found his body tensing, a cheer coming to his lips, whenever the dancers pulled off a spectacular move.

Tearing his eyes from the people on the sand, he looked back into the sleepy town over his shoulder, allowing himself a small smile. It was a nice place, but already he felt the pull to return home to his swamp. This place was too crowded for his taste, too noisy, and the solitude of the swamp would be welcome.