Chapter 2
The interior of the hotel spoke volumes of the surrounding area, muted colors lined the walls with some of the paint beginning to peel along the top corners of the room. A cigarette vending , nearly devoid of all packs aside from a few crushed menthols that were displayed inside. Coupled with the distracted receptionist, a younger girl, couldn't have been more than 24 whose fingers rhythmically tapped away on the screen of her phone from behind the dusty counter - this place was a dream come true. Odessa made the first move towards the counter, unlacing their fingers from one another for the first time since they had left the bar, allowing Everett to peruse the busted rack full of tourist pamphlets. "Excuse me, I'd like to rent a room." The dark skinned woman spoke out, pulling loose a wallet from her pocket. Behind the counter, the woman didn't even turn her attention away from the phone that she continued to type away on, giving a single glance upwards before letting out a quiet scoff. "Please?" Odessa tried again, doing her best to corral the feeling of annoyance that welled up inside at this woman's inaction. Even in the dim incandescent bulb, the eye roll from the woman manning the office was visible, as if her having to put down her phone was one of life's greatest tragedies. Sitting up in her chair, she pulled herself closer to the counter and began to flip through some miscellaneous pages that lined the underside of the countertop. "We've got two rooms available, now which one do you want?" A line delivered with the monotony of a robot, as if she had delivered it time and time again and was already sick and tired of it, yet with subtle hints of annoyance.
A folder was placed onto the dusty countertop, slamming down with the ferocity of a newborn kitten which excavated a plume of dust that once set peacefully on the unused counter. Her eyes quickly met with the contents of the page, a brow raised at the unique process this hotel had decided to take with their process of deciding rooms. There were accompanying pictures, small notes made on the accommodations that they provided, each fairly limited in their choices but one offered Pay-Per-View and two beds and the other was the honeymoon suite. It would seem the receptionist had paid enough attention when they walked in to notice them hand in hand, otherwise such an offer wouldn't have even been presented. Faint pink rushed to her cheeks again, shrouded in poor lighting and dark skin but still there. "We'll take the suite." Handing over her card, the receptionist pulling back the folder alongside it she'd begin to pen in a few details into a sizable ledger that was tucked away in the corner underneath the counter.
Was there underlying reasons for her choosing the suite? Aside from the bigger bed, not really. Why abandon luxuries when luxuries are affordable, even if that luxury is simply a larger TV with a busted Juccuzi to compliment it. After a moment of silence, Odessa would retrieve her card and a small brass key which held a small placard with room number that dangled from it, the sleek black worn and without it's prior luster to surround the golden 13 that was engraved into both sides. Just in time for Everett to return to her side, seemingly through with his investigation of new media; it was all just tourist traps anyhow. "So, what do we have?" He gestured towards the key, a brow raising above his left eye. "A decent room, only one bed if you're alright with that. Remember, I said I'd take the floor." Once again she'd reaffirm her point, met only with a quick dismissive wave of his hand. A small corridor, filled with the stereotypical furnishings of a local motel led them down to their room, passing by various pictures of celebrities that have supposedly spent the night; presidential candidates, only third parties apparently; minor celebrities, people you've seen on wacky Canadian TV shows; and finally a strange and odd choice to line the walls, Zeke Foster of Nocturnal Spirits. A sight that made Everett slightly chuckle, mumbling off the same words he'd repeated various times before. "Paedophilia runs rampant, I see . . . " Odessa's ears perked at this one, turning to Everett with curiosity before catching the picture in her peripheral vision, playfully elbowing Everett in his chest in response. Another chuckle escaped from his lips, another needed laugh for the time. As they finally arrived in front of their door, themed apparently, which wasn't entirely advertised - the frame above and around lined with decorative roses that start white near the bottom only to turn red along the top. Symbolism or something, if people followed the ethics of Christianity.
Odessa's fingers twisted the base handle of the key as the rest turned accordingly inside of the corresponding keyhole, hearing the tumblers click into place as the loudest pop sounded at the opening of the door. With one solid turn of the handle, light from the dim LEDs above would shine through into the largest room the venue had to offer. A large king size bed would take center stage in the room, a decorative headboard with very floral design hugging the wall close with two identical nightstands on either side of the bed. The left nightstand fitted with a dusty and seemingly expensive lamp, the shade made of fine stained glass that wouldn't be nearly as bright with the layer of filth resting atop it. The right nightstand holding religious paraphernalia such as a bible with a certain passage marked with a black beaded rosario, things quickly tucked away by an unknowing and uncaring Everett. It wasn't explicitly stated that this place was the honeymoon suite, all it held were insinuations of the night or nights to come, for others that weren't the two caught in the middle of a rather unique relationship. One nimble finger moved along the switch on the wall, flipping it on to better display the interior, flashing on with a blinding light when in comparison to the dim lights found outside, causing both to cover their eyes momentarily. Already making themselves comfortable on the bed, Everett would let loose a loud sigh of comfort, shifting in his place to give the bed time to adjust to his shape. "I haven't felt something this nice since your bed." That sentence sounded odd, even to himself, which he was quick to notice alongside Odessa and began to try to explain the case, needlessly of course. "That sounded . . . wrong. Listen, I-." Before he could finish what he was saying, a finger was placed over his lips which immediately brought about a silence in him. "You're digging a hole for yourself. I know what you mean." She replied, shaking her head with a soft chuckle escaping with her most recent breath. After suffering a single, guilty look from Everett the woman would remove her finger and confiscate a single pillow from the head of the bed, placing it down on the floor. "Y'know, Odessa . . . " He began, crawling himself towards the edge of the bed to peer down at the placed pillow. "It is more comfortable on this bed and we can switch if it interests you, more than willing to do it." His gaze returned to the still standing Odessa, her expression full of distaste at the provided accommodations. It wasn't just the dust that lined nearly every crevice of the room, but she could've sworn she saw a spider or two skitter by! This place must be falling apart since the visit of those celebrities, since it clearly wasn't getting the same care. With one more quick glance along the floor, swearing she saw a spider crawl underneath the nightstand she'd hastily toss the pillow back onto the bed leaving her hands held in the air in a mixture of fear and disgust. "Yeah! Yes. The bed sounds good. Really good." No hesitation, zero care for anything else by the supposed sanctuary that the bed could provide, Hawthorn took a leap.
She landed near the foot of the bed, causing the frame to make a rather loud creak as the springs adjusted to both their weight. Were they continued, their neighbors might find some legitimacy in the chosen room. In one solid motion Everett would scoop up a pillow, coincidentally the same one just haphazardly tossed back to the rest of it's pillow brethren, he made for the floor but found something blocking his descent in the form of an ironlike grasp that clung tightly to his clothed bicep. Obviously it was the hand of Odessa, fear clearly registered in her features alongside a far more subtle hint of worry. Why would she allow him to suffer like that? To endure the revolting creatures! Sure, the man eats flesh, but still . . . it wasn't at all fair of her.
Everett turned his head to shoot Hawthorn a curious gaze, eyes wild with curiosity and sparkling with a semblance of confusion. Had they not just agreed to switch places? Was Odessa regretting the contemplation of Everett's idea in the first place? Much to figure out, only a moment to do so! Time, selfish as ever stripped away any opportunities for Everett to solve the puzzle himself by the quick introduction of words that spilled from the soft, healthy bronze that made up her lips. "How about we both just take the bed? It's safer, I'll even keep my distance!" Each word sounded less like an offer and more like a plea, her eyes doing little to help dispute said claims, filled with the puppy-like innocence that canines often used to guilt their masters; seems an inherited trait. How could Everett say no to that? Settling himself back onto the bed, it creaking once again at the motions, he'd simply lie himself back on the surprisingly clean comforter that lined the bed, nestling his head into one of the various pillows already fluffed by their various actions. Following along with her promised agreement, Odessa would take up shelter on the opposite side of the bed, stealing away two of the pillows from the unused side and placing them near the foot of the bed where her head would promptly plummet into their accepting bosom, welcoming her with arms more open than that of her romantic interest. Unsurprisingly lulling her into a fast and deep slumber, Everett not too far behind.
Dawn's pale fingers rippled across the skyline, bringing in the first rays of
light to start the day off bathed in the essence of purity that each beautiful skyline provided with Dawn's help. One by one they'd stream in through the space between the shutters that covered the windowsill, coating certain items in the warm and welcoming light, feeling the warm and gentle kiss of the sun upon their surfaces. Pale skin, although covered with a thin layer of clothing from his damaged flannel, felt the touch that nature gave, rousing him from his slumber to an unexpected but welcome surprise. An arm draped along his chest, Odessa's head resting in the crook of his neck where her breath spilled occasionally onto the exposed skin, his own arm slipped underneath her body as if he was the one who welcomed the nightly cuddle. For a moment there was peace inside of him, as if life felt right. A feeling which found itself dissipating almost as quickly as it arrived. Everett did his best to slip from Odessa's hold, slipping loose his arm from underneath her body with more caution than he employed with his cooking. The woman barely stirred, shifting only to adopt a more comfortable position in which her arm clung to the empty space which Everett once inhabited, grasping at the sheets in lieu of a person to hold. Firm, lightly toned legs dangled off the side of the bed, the worn denim baggy around his thighs and scrunched up around his knees from prior movement during the night; It had been far too hectic for the thought of changing before bed to even cross either of their minds. Planting his feet firmly on the ground, landing with a soft thud as his work boots hit against the scratchy carpet flooring he stumbled his way to the room's attached bathroom, pushing open the door with two forceful fingers and a supportive palm against the sanded wood. Lights were unnecessary in the room but they still went on, activated by a single flip from a finger acting on autopilot. Instantly Everett was greeted with a familiar sight, his own grizzled appearance reflected back on the surface of the spotted mirror, showing exactly what the world on the outside saw, not the creature people accused him of hiding within. Jet black hair, slicked back to reveal the prominent widow's peak that supported his hairline; sideburns of the same color that extended down to his jaw on both sides, level on both sides as if it was professionally done; a handlebar mustache gracing his upper lip, slightly curled at each end to accentuate his refined nature, accompanied by a goatee of similar prestigious allure. Tired eyes gazed into the matching set of chartreuse green that returned the stare, entering an unwinnable contest that served no other purpose than to build up disdain for the one who initiated it. With minutes passing by like seconds, he'd eventually give up his pointless efforts and bring a hand to turn the handle of the faucet, fingers closing around the nearly endless ridges the crafters carved into the plastic knobs before cranking it solidly to the right. A sound grew in the drain of the alabaster bowl before him, soft at first and growing in it's intensity before water began spewing from the old tap, sputtering occasionally but delivering a surprisingly clear quality of the water. Using his hands to form a bowl-like shape, fingers held tightly against one another to limit the amount of cracks his makeshift carrier had, he would slip it under the steady stream until water began pouring over the brims of his thumbs. Water obtained, his hands would retreat in one rapid jerk which caused a majority of the obtained liquid to slosh out into the sink, leaving enough to sufficiently wet his face that shocked away any ounce of sleep that remained.
Water spewed sporadically from the nozzle affixed to the showerhead, coating the floors accompanying walls in a thin layer of moisture which compensated for the lack of cleanliness in the other areas of the room. Steam worked itself fast into the room, a faint layer already seen vying for control over the dirtied mirror's glass surface, winning the battle at a slow but steady pace. To gauge the temperature, his fingers danced between the bipolar spray without the grace or finesse required to dodge the endless stream, adjusting occasionally before settling on a moderate heat in comparison to the scalding setting it held before. Undoing the buttons along his shirt, drying his wet hand on the dirty fabric of his flannel in the process, only to discard the hand-me-down clothes to a pile he'd started in the corner of the room. His bare chest now on display, the wounds of a prior debacle standing forefront amongst them, gussied up in Hello Kitty brand Band-Aids to distract from the grueling reality that took place underneath the layer of innocence. Proper doctoring had been done, of course, but sometimes a mental safeguard wasn't a terrible addition to help mend physical wounds. With failing adhesive and intrusive but helpful fingers, the male would remove the only truly preventative methods in place to stop any blood from spilling out. Underneath the thin gauze of the colorful, child friendly was blood that had dried over the thin passage of the wounds, thankfully unruptured by his movements even in their precarious positions; one socketed deep in his left shoulder, pushing passed healthy muscle tissue but thankfully stopping before anything vital was damaged; another stuck into his abdomen where it very nearly clipped his liver, just grazing by the tissue that protected it. Pain was an omnipresent force he was left to endure, although he did it in silence, through gritted teeth and a forced smile in order to sway the worries of the people around him. Other, better reasons to smile still existed, all he had to do was look into the other room for evidence of that - his oldest, dearest friend.
Pulling loose the remaining articles of clothing he'd step into the now steady stream, feeling droplets pepper his skin before eventually succumbing to autonomous motions and lengths that people underwent for cleanliness. In the other room, awakened by the sound of rushing water from behind the thin wooden door, Odessa found herself in a different position than before. To the best of her memories, she had fallen asleep on the opposite end of the bed, but for some reason, which she pinned on Everett's kindness, was that he'd moved her once he had woken up. Stuck with only minor recollection of what truly happened, surrounded by inescapable walls built of incorrect thoughts, this was the only truth she knew. Although tempted to rise from her place on the bed, she recalled the various spider-like images that danced across her feet on the floor and would decidedly not follow that temptation, choosing instead to flip on an older looking TV that was mounted on the wall in front of the bed. Flipping through channels, the loud click from each push of the button signature to the age of the device, making the search all the more difficult as it drowned out the few seconds of screen time each show had; news, sports, and eventually cartoons were all passed by. She had all but given up hope when she finally arrived at something that caught her eye, the main theme of it just finishing with a slightly discordant guitar riff as the title of "The Bureau" slid across the screen. Hawthron had heard of this series, mostly the comic book version, akin to the reality of their own job even if it didn't start that way. While not exactly a particular fan, due to the nature of her own dealings with the supernatural creatures and rather simplistic observation and introduction of Gods in the second issue, the actors and writing was enough to momentarily provide a distraction while she waited for Everett to finish.
After six minutes of the mind numbing program, the sound of water was finally brought to an end in the opposite room, a sound she'd subconsciously drowned out now completely eliminated and replaced with the sounds of her show and the occasional thud as Everett carefully maneuvered the towel around the wounds. Two minutes later the door would swing open, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist extending down to the point just below his knees, held close by an unwavering hand that gripped the two loose ends together. "Finally awake, I see." Everett called over to Hawthorn, his eyes finally settling upon her face, trying to play off the scene as casually as he possibly could. Made more difficult by the woman's eyes who travelled along his figure, scanning each detail carefully and frowning as she'd meet with the wounds, an event she was technically responsible for. "Right. The shower's all yours, Odessa." He flashed a smile in her direction, his head turning away from the woman but still able to feel her own prying eyes upon his figure. Perhaps the meaning would be revealed if their lips shared an embrace again, which was less likely to happen than some might think.
Before they had abandoned Odessa's home, she had thankfully procured another pair of clothing for the next day, placed beside the front door as added blockage for the night, which Everett took advantage of when his companion eventually took up the offer of showering. Inside were two separate outfits, one for himself and the other that he laid out on the foot of the bed for Hawthorn when she required them. Likely a welcome change from what had previously been on her body, those dark grey shorts, that black sweater, makings of an outfit assembled quickly to satisfy his request of security. The other outfit was more her speed, laid out on the bed stacked decoratively on top of one another, taking into account the anatomy of an outfit excluding nothing aside from the beat up hightops already present near the door: loose grey jeans with rips near the knees, naturally done from wear and tear unlike the artificial tears that pollute nearly every pair nowadays; a black tank top that held loosely to her skin, white crew cut socks with a parallel black stripe running up the sides of their ankle and traditional black undergarments. His own outfit consisted of another button up shirt, blue with white strips every half inch along the chest and arms, cuffs folded until they were comfortably above his elbows and accompanied by black work slacks that clung close to his legs, trapping the bottom hem of his shirt by way of a black belt, a recognizable silver buckle finishing off the look. If someone saw him wandering along the side of the street, they'd figure him a man of business, another facade he could use to hide the monster that lies underneath. With nothing else to occupy his time, he'd seat himself upon the bed and begin to relax, finding his eyes glued to the TV screen as the episode that Odessa was watching drew to a close, only for another to begin playing after a short commercial break. Needless to say, he found himself something new to indulge in during off time.
As this new episode drew to it's halfway point, time passing by as a blink for the male who found enjoyment from the series, Odessa would step out from the bathroom, a towel wrapped carefully around her chest and another holding up her hair so it wouldn't spill water onto the floor. "Hey Everett, you wouldn't mind stepping out a second, would you?" She spoke up, moving over to her laid out clothing before shooting him a questioning glance. His eyes barely moved from the screen in the first few seconds, as if his mind was busy processing the information second to that of the happenings of the episode. "I . . . umm-Yeah. Give me a second." He eventually replied, blinking a few times and shaking off the magical allure of the screen, nearly falling off the bed in his distracted state before exiting through the front door. Setting a personal reminder that he should ask to watch the rest of the series, if they could find it elsewhere.
The streets were loud, bustling with activity as people went about their own business, some rushing to work while others mindlessly waltz the mass of crowds with their eyes locked on the screen and only the screen. It was quieter on this side of the glass, Everett watching as Odessa settled into her side of the booth, finding little comfort in the leather lined seats. "So." She began, hands laid flat against the table in a subtle demand for Everett's attention. "What I was thinking, is that today we should go buy you some of your own clothes. Stuff you like, not just what I have on hand. Also, I wanted to get you a phone! So I would have a way to contact you and vice versa." All that planning, she must've been thinking about it for a while. "I appreciate that, Odessa! Truly. Would you need help paying for that? I haven't much, though I do still have that money you gave from the carnival." A smile was drawn across his lips, twisting a once blank slate into a masterpiece of art. In it all, Hawthorn would already be putting up her hands in a show of denial, starting again with a soft laughter accenting her words. "No, don't worry about it Everett! Reggie said he'd help us out, even gave me his card." She produced the card from her pocket, sliding it across the table for him to examine if he wished. "He's also-" Once Everett finished eyeing it, her arm slipped across the table and secured the card in her hand. "-decided to pay for our breakfast, you'll have to thank him sometime. After we buy your stuff." Clearly there was more to what she was saying, although Everett didn't care too much to ask, the thought even dropping from his mind as the distraction in the form of a waitress arrived beside them: short brown hair, done up in the stylings of a Hollywood starlet during the 40s, fairly youthful looking pale skin with lips coated in a fairly tacky red lipstick. She was fairly pretty, sporting a winning smile, an air of charisma that followed her around, and a certain pep in her step that he was quick to notice the other patrons, particularly the older fellow seated at the counter, enjoyed thoroughly. "What can 'ah do you for?" The waitress spoke, eyes darting between both Odessa and Everett, speech carrying with it an essence of Southern grace, something Everett never imagined he would find in this city. "I'll have the . . . " Odessa paused, picking up the menu in front of herself and looking over the selection, repeatedly gazing over the selection of breakfast omelettes they served before eventually deciding to have pancakes instead. "Could I get the pancakes with a side of bacon and some coffee, thanks." The waitress' pen moved fast along the paper, jotting down the order before turning her attention towards Everett who appeared to have already made a decision on what he'd like. "The french toast if you wouldn't mind, dear. Is it extra to add a banana on the top of that? If so, I'm alright, but if not could I get that and a tea?" He was looking up at her as if seeking approval for his actions, eyes like that of a puppy dog in need of validation, which he received in the form of a soft giggle from the waitress and a light kick in his shin from an inconspicuous Hawthorn who played it off as if she hadn't done anything. "Comin' right up, sweetheart. By the way, 'ah love your accent." She left the table with a wink, leaving Everett to the sight of a slightly perturbed Hawthorn, if he could read auras he could've sworn she was green.
Their food came and went. Eaten with little to no conversation until it came to the bill, where Odessa insisted that Reggie was happy to cover it. Once the receipt was returned, handed over to the paying party of Hawthorn, she would notice the waitress slip another piece of paper in front of Everett, walking away whilst using a free hand to emote for him to call. "Well . . . " Everett took up the piece of paper in his hand, looking it over before sliding it in the direction of Hawthorn. "She was kind, left me a note and everything. See the little hearts?" He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing his back to rest against the uncushioned divider. It was clear he'd given it to Odessa on purpose, allowing the choice of what to do with it to fall to her. After all, he had no stake in it! The waitress was just nice, nothing more and nothing less, in the end all that mattered to him was the opinion of his closest friend. "You do what you'd like, Everett. You're free, aren't you?" She finally spoke, sliding the paper back across the table, a hint of agitation in her voice. "You're right, I'm free . . . " The male's fingers close in around the thin scrap of paper, crumpling it down until it was nothing more than a ball that he promptly disposed of, all whilst keeping his eyes upon the shifting emotions of Odessa. Was it worth it? That soft, grateful smile upon those lips makes the Magic 8 Ball read - All Signs Point to Yes.