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[The few days it's taken to adjust have been, well - Sam is not going to use the word 'Hell' because he's actually been, and this is crappy but it doesn't come close. Still, anyone who hasn't seen him yet might be a little alarmed at what's being broadcast: six feet and four inches of sickly sasquatch, valiantly trying to address the network, appallingly pale, sallow-faced and bloodshot-sunken-eyed.]

Hey. Uh - Sam. I'm new. I guess this is a, uh, a thing that, that people do. Is introduce themselves. And I get that - we're all looking for a way out.

[Auspicious beginnings. Who knows if anyone's even getting this? Nevertheless, he continues.]

Okay. So. No promises, but there's something I can try. Kinda like a ward, or a spell. [Magic exists, surprise. The few people he's already talked to have expressed a kind of varied interest in this sort of thing, so caution be damned.] Anyone wants to help, I'll need a couple things.

First is - salt. Table salt, any kind will do. Second? Matches, a lighter, anything that can make sparks, even for a few seconds. And then I'll need something to write with, marker, pen, spray paint - I don't care. Anything along those lines.

[He looks at something off-screen, mouth briefly twisting in what might best be categorized as 'disgust'.]

I have food to trade for it. Heard that's kind of a limited resource these days. Food and, uh. [He squints at something.] Neosporin. If anyone, y'know, needs that.

[Yeah, he doesn't get it either. He jerks off frame for a moment, face buried in his elbow. It's not enough to fully stifle the ragged, fierce coughs that leave his shoulders shuddering. Finally, signs of life trickle back through the feed, albeit muffled and with their subject mostly lurched off camera as he mutters in his more characteristic deadpan, wearily sardonic, 'so-done-with-this-shit' tone.]

Also. If anyone happens to have some aspirin on them, that'd be great.

[There's the rattling of trembling, uncoordinated fingertips trying to navigate the tablet, and the feed snaps off.]

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Fitz. [ Accompanied by a small smile, one part awkward and two parts rusty. ] There's aspirin in the hotel. Or there was, um— two months ago. Two people, I think; they might still have some to share.

[ That's followed by a pause as he considers leaving it there. It's probably rude to pry, but if the guy's already talking about casting spells on the network— ] Do you know magic?

[Sam nods a hello, and his interest instantly sharpens. The fact that there might be some here is a good sign, though he deflates a little when Fitz continues. 'Two months ago' is a pretty significant stretch of time.] You know who has it?

A bit. Just stuff like warding, summoning, y'know. Basic stuff.

Yeah. Well, one of them. Her name's Johanna, room... [ Please hold while he tries to dredge up the memory. ] Three oh-three. The other girl was named Clara. We got them in gift baskets.

[ The delivery on "gift baskets" is a little bitter and bemused, even now. He still isn't sure what to make of them. The bitterness fades a beat later, giving way to flat incredulity. ]

Summoning's basic stuff?

[Gift baskets, huh. That's real nice of the anonymous, creepy hotel. He takes note of the names and the room number - maybe he can find some way to contact them. He could really do with some kind of painkiller.]

Where I come from, kinda. It depends on what you're summoning. Couple sigils, a few candles. Bit pressed for resources here, but might as well try.

Yeah. We're a bit pressed for resources, as well.

[ The science side of things, that is, though he fails to clarify. ] But it's safe, yeah? The... spell.

[ Dancing around saying 'ward' more than feeling awkward about talking magic, honestly. He's encountered enough magic here to have at least warmed to the idea. ]

[He wiggles a hand in a vague, wavy, 'ehhhhhh' motion.]

'Safe' in the sense that it shouldn't blow anything up or leave anyone dead, yeah. It's gonna be a risk no matter what, but hopefully something'll come of it.

[Optimism!]

What's it meant to do, exactly?

[ Or how does it work, though he's not quite sure magic has set rules. Maybe it hasn't got a clear explanation. ]

In this case, it's kinda like sending a signal, hoping someone'll pick up the receiver. Magic's gonna leave traces no matter what it is, so.

[He closes off with an equivocal shrug. It's hard to think of the minutiae of a plan when you're half-delirious seventy percent of the time, okay?]

An S.O.S.

[ Just a magical one. He says it a bit slowly, wrapping his head around it, considering the details; where it's being sent, how. Who might pick it up. ]

Can you get the signal if you don't know magic?

More or less, yeah.

[Hhhuh. That raises some questions, and he frowns.]

I dunno, it - it'd probably depend. Plenty of people from where I come from can detect stuff like that even if they're not strictly 'magical'. Don't really know how those rules apply here.

Most of us aren't. Magical, I mean. My world's sort of got it, but I think it's just— very advanced science. There's been a few others, though I think they've gone. The Evil Queen was here.

[ Said with some gravity, because the Evil Queen. ]

The...Evil Queen.

[He stretches out the words skeptically. What, Humpty Dumpty wasn't available?

Then again, he's met Satan.

Maybe his horizons need some expanding a bit.]

I'm not really magical either, I just - know how to pull out a few tricks when I need to. Exorcisms, summonings, that sort of thing.

[Time was he could gulp down that hot rush of power pumping through demons' veins. He was made that way. Made special. But that's not him anymore.

It's not.]

Yeah.

[ Either he's missing the skepticism, or deadpan's his honest answer to it. The following's also deadpan, though that's mostly because it seems like more of a stretch than summoning. ]

You know how to perform an exorcism.

[ Anyway, not the point. ] I don't know how the rules work, exactly, but the Evil Queen said something about her magic being— dampened?

Yeahhhh. [He drags out the word because, yes, he knows how it sounds. He absolutely knows how it sounds. Being predestined to be Satan's well-fitted tuxedo to wear to the Apocalypse prom was not his idea of a fun life, but here he fucking is. He knows how to perform exorcisms and summon the King of Hell. It sucks.]

Seems to be what I'm hearing on all channels. This kinda stuff's pretty simple though, and I'm mostly relying on who hears it rather than if it actually works.

[ There's a measured pause while Fitz mulls that information over, and it's clear he's considering asking something else — prying, more like — but he dismisses it. ]

We've tried something similar on the tech side, but between the lack of materials and whatever interference we've had from the hotel... well, we're still here, so.

[ No luck. ] Have you seen anything like this before? The creepy hotel with the— um. Rifts.

[ Dimensional rifts, but he can't come up with the first word. ]

Hotels, yeah. Not my first barbecue, so to speak.

[Though at least here, Satan is conspicuously absent. Thank fuck.

He squints, head tilting.]

Not really sure what you mean by, uh, rifts. Like, other worlds, people from different places? [And planets, apparently, because green lady aliens are apparently a thing.]

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