Hotel

“Let's… go with your plan, with a mod…” you consider, “I want to be the one talking to my roomie.”

“Sure, no problem,” the man in your head replies, “it makes sense, really. Are you ready for me to make with the money management?”

“Yeah,” you subvocalize… and this time you kind if feel the shift as your body stops responding to you. It's a subtle change… a little unnerving, but not inherently unpleasant.

You watch, a passenger in your own body, as your guest drives. He seems to know exactly what he's doing: Using your biometrics to open your phone and your banking app… where he reads your account number, pulls up the app store, downloads a web browser you've never heard of, opens a memorized link within it, types out a super annoying username and password lightning fast, checks the time and thinks for a moment at a 2FA screen, and types in a number…

‘You seriously keep that in your head?’ You would blink, but literally can't. Admittedly, his account total also is cause for surprise, but less so.

‘Yes… calculators weren't a thing when I was a child, so I had to do more math in my head. Admittedly the OTP codes are challenging…’ he muses as he transfers a hundred thousand dollars into your account, then logs out of his banking website, ‘...but I can't exactly carry a phone with me between hosts.’ He gives you back control.

Something else that's been bugging you, “setting aside the dozen-digit account total…” you subvocalize as you walk up the stairs to your dorm, “...you mentioned that the crash hasn't happened yet?”

“Oh, that,” he responds in your head, “I have an escape spell I can always use, host or no. It's fast, reliable, and punches through every barrier I've ever encountered… but it's not controllable, and only moves my anchor. I always end up somewhere a suitable person will soon discover and put on my anchor… but that can be anywhere… or more germane to your question, any when. So I study history wherever or whenever I end up, at least as far as I expect it to impact me… and make investments that are technically insider trading, which I then drop into cold accounts for access later.”

“When, and how bad?” You ask nonverbally as you open the door to your dorm room.

Your roommate is already there, getting ready for bed:

She greets you warmly, “Oh, hey Alice!”

“Hey Betty!” You greet her warmly enough back, “Hot date tonight, I'm just here to change and pick up a few things…” you pause, “...and I plan to pack an overnight bag, just in case.”

“Ooh, that hot, huh? Nice,” she smiles, “Good to see you coming out of your shell. Let me know all about it… tomorrow.”

“Will do,” you chuckle, “He's a bit old fashioned, but is the single most respectful man I've met. Anyway…” you quickly pack a few things, including a fancy dress, heels, and an old titanium NFC ring that a tech-head ex boyfriend got you in high school. You stopped using it to unlock your phone when biometrics became more convenient with the phone your parents gave you after you arrived at college… and that was all you'd ever used the thing to do. “Anyway… see you later…”

“Tomorrow,” Betty chuckles as you walk out the door.

“Any reason I can't call the cab and hotel myself?” You speak without actually letting the air past your lips.

“Go for it,” the roommate within your body chuckles.

You call a local hotel, reserve a room, and book a cab to the place… fifteen minutes later, you're getting a key card from the desk, and visiting the restaurant next door.

Patronage is a bit light, but it is a weeknight. You look over the menu, and the man footing the bill laughs, “Order what you want. Nothing on here is a problem.”

Nodding, you order a nice lobster and a glass of wine, eating your fill. A second glass of wine, a little rich chocolate cake for dessert, payment made with your now fully-loaded debit card, and soon you're back at the hotel, slightly buzzed, but legal to drive… and you can apparently afford a car now, so that might matter soon.

“Okay, so… this work?” You hold the NFC ring in front of your face. Maybe you should have asked before grabbing it….

“It'll do fine. Are you ready to go to sleep? I can handle washing up and such, no problem.” The not perfectly sober portion of your mind notes his tone isn't quite as matter-of-fact as he seems to want.

But you're a little tipsy, he's been nice, and he's rich… “You can take over, yeah,” you begin in control of your mouth, ‘I'll just drift off while you work, I guess,’ you finish from the back seating your own body.

“Thank you,” the man driving your body smiles, “I'll start with the agreed work…” he takes the ring and sits down at the couch in the hotel room, setting the ring on the table and getting to work… which apparently involves weaving golden strands of light from your fingertips onto the ring? Oh, the threads are actually something that looks like cursive script that shrink down to almost nothing as it wraps around the plain looking ring.

It's actually kind of hypnotic to watch… and at some point you realize you drifted off, as you find yourself waking up, dressed, sitting at a table in a restaurant, a breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and orange juice in front of you. It smells delicious.

You realize you have control as your guest fills you in, “You’re rested, brushed, showered, packed, in fresh clothes, and I applied some simple makeup from your kit as well. I took the liberty of ordering something simple.”

Looking at your hands you find the NFC ring looks much like it did before, and is now sitting on the next finger over from the dragon on your right hand. “Thank you,” you find you feel awake and alert, “So what all did you get up to last night?”