Dilapidation

Hmm I don't see what it is about this place. The Jaguar waits prowling for action, but the weather beats down upon it with harshness and bird turds. Mr. Neuman Jr. knows there is something off. He can't get his mind off of it. People around here are just so "exorbitant" is all he can think of. Who ever heard of such nonsense and oddity. His neighbor has a pesky guest which until recently did Neuman realize that the nasal and screechy voice came from that of a crow. Parrots talk, even falcons are smart, but a talking crow? Maybe the change of climate is affecting him. Even more astonishing is the small victories these people get in this situation. A stripper that takes pride in getting money for 'exploiting' her clients. How odd to think of yourself a good person for doing something so desperate, so... despicable. Neuman ponders staring out onto the landscape. The sudden exclamation that "THE WORLD IS ROUND" echoes in the streets. Neuman slaps his face. He could be at home inheriting the precious position of the company and really be contributing. He could be actually doing something productive. The Jaguar waits seemingly falling apart in the parking lot the keys still on the hood.
No the company can wait. This is important. It must be. This is the key to success, understanding what these people live like, knowing what to look for... but it's just so difficult to adapt to such a simple world. Neuman sighs and hits the door glancing at the contacts of some of the hotel's participants. A Doctor! There's the solution. Surely a Dr. would be a refreshing bit of high life. Perhaps this man is doing the same as he! Perhaps this Dr. is merely staying to heroically cure the sick around this town. Just a little break from living with so many people beneath him. Neuman straightens out fixes his composure and strides down the hall remaining conscious of his appearance and being friendly to those he passed by. Knocking on the door of Dr. A. Gallagher opening straight to the point: "Good evening, my name is Mr. Paul Neuman, might I ask what your doctorate is in?"

Social Anxiety

Singed air dwells in the nostrils of Mr. Neuman, making it inaccurate to propose that his awakening depended on his nostrils being filled with the smell, but somehow it was easier to blame that smell on a convenient alarm clock. It seemed well enough to get up seeming a habit that work must be done. Mr. Neuman the aspiring son of his grand company could not help, but remain a busy bee even if the work included lying awake in an unforgiving world trying to discern one mud stain from another on the ceiling and pondering if it was really mud and how it got there. How to start a day without an end?

Peering out the window gave little comfort, the sun was up clearly marked by the brightness, but the eerie absence of the sun quashed that little comfort. This light glinted off the untouched Jaguar with the keys on the hood. Maybe it was when it rained, maybe no one wanted to claim it. Give it some time, someone surely must want a car like that. The scene was not unaccompanied, many more cars and oddities littered the parking lot now. It seems guests have come to this rickety old building. Maybe that's what the next step is, time to associate with the neighbors.