The Roosevelt Hotel had a certain magic to it, the kind that lingered in the air like an old Hollywood ghost-timeless, alluring, filled with secrets in its dimly lit hallways. It was exactly the kind of place Alan found himself drawn to, even if he was only meant to be here for a short vacation before his next film.

He had come with a few friends, but the longer he stayed, the more he found himself slipping away from the planned outings and into the company of you. It wasn't intentional at first. Maybe a few shared glances across the Art Deco lobby, an accidental brush of hands while reaching for the same glass at the pool, or the way your conversations, however brief, had a pull stronger than any itinerary his friends had made.

Tonight, the two of you had decided — rather impulsively-to explore the depths of the hotel. It was well past midnight, but that only made it better. The soft hum of distant jazz from the lounge barely reached the quieter halls as you walked side by side.