Traveling by bus must be some sort of torture, Rogue was sure of it. Seconded only to traveling by train. She tryed to descretly cover her nose with her glove. The man next to her was in his young twentys and had celebrated quite vigiorously before getting on the train judging by the smell of sweat and alcohal that wafted off his body. She wasnt sure where she was headed beyond south, away from New York and all the judgemental people of her former home.
This bus had a stop in Mississippi but as she watched people greeted by their loved ones she picked up her bag and bought another ticket to Louisiana, Mississippi didnt feel like home anymore. It was like a show she watched, she was familiar with it but she didnt belong there. When the bus pulled up to the depot in Lousiana she felt much beter. It was late and she'd desided a hotel sounded much better then another night on a bus. The pained cracking of her back and groan she let out was another sign that she had been on the bus too long. She found a cheep and sleezy motel. She had money but it wouldnt last forever. What she did have was what she could get off some paintings and assorted items from the mansion. She fingered the dog tags around her neck as she sat on the thread bare comforter on the worn and probably filthy bed. She layed back and prayed they wernt infested with bed bugs. She shudered and shifted to the other side of the bed feeling a spring digging into her side. She cried into her pillow thinking about her comfortable bed in the mansion and the people she left behind.