It was ridiculous, really.
Striding into town came a broad, robust teenage boy carrying only a satchel. Along with the bleak, dull countenance upon his face, he wore tattered clothing, which had long since lost any of its vibrant color, leaving sorrowful browns and grays.
Wearily treading next to him, followed a disheveled dish-water blonde, most likely coming of age. She, although also wearing clothes of a poor condition, managed to promote an image of disarray and order simultaneously. Her hair was frizzy and just partially contained in braids. The slight sag of her shoulders betrayed her otherwise controlled, composed stride.
Reaching into her pocket, the girl withdrew a crumpled slip of paper and slowed to a halt. The boy also stopped and read the note over her shoulder. The pair peered down the half-heartedly busy street, with its cracking sidewalk and quaint shoppes, as a town bell struck four. They proceeded to gaze at the building they had paused at. A faint glow illuminated the words, "The Neufeld Hotel" in the approaching dusk. The tinkle of a bell echoed as the girl pushed her way in.
"How may I help you?", dutifully questioned the front-desk employee, not bothering to hide a dubious once-over of the pair's appearance. His lip curled ever so slightly as his eyes flickered between the two.
"We were looking for a one night room rental, sir," replied the girl, rummaging into her carryall distractedly.
"I'm afraid one night rentals are against our policy, miss," he informed. "I am sure that our city's local motel can be more than accommodating."
Pausing from her search, the girl's head rose until her eyes met level with that of the employee. A faint blush tinged her cheeks and her lips pursed. She opened her mouth to reply when her male counterpart spoke up.
"We can assure you, sir, that our intentions are honest. She is my younger sister and we are here to visit our uncle."
"Well then," seemed all the clerk could reply with. "If that's the case, then our fee is as stated behind this desk," he continued slowly, still glancing between the two suspiciously. "I apologize for any inconvenience, but we currently only accept cash," he drawled, the shadow of a jeer disappearing to be replaced with a perfunctory, glittering smile.
"Quite all right, sir," answered the short-haired youth, who effectively produced a billfold from his back pocket with little trouble. However, he soon paused and looked at the girl, a sense of urgency in his eyes.
"Let me," she broke in, out of her disdainful glare, grabbing away the billfold and laying down on the desk the appropriate notes.
"Room 413, enjoy your stay," was all the clerk said, handing over the bronze key. With one last glance, and a slight sneer, he turned away and strode through a door into a back room.
"I still can't believe that man," whispered the girl under her breath as she fumbled with the room key.
"Herm-" the boy began, only to be stopped short by a quick jab in the ribs from an unknown source. "Er, I'm… I'm sure we don't look all that respectable, you know," he finished distractedly, the slightest hint of color shading his ears.
The ensuing silence lasted momentarily until the click of an unlocking door sounded in the hallway. The boy entered first, pulling from within his overcoat a long wooden stick.
"Put that away! Someone might see!" the girl exclaimed in a hushed voice as she herself rushed into the room, quickly closing the door behind herself.
"Lumos," was all the boy said in the darkness of the room.