3.

"This'll be cold."

"Duh."

Peter chuckled, shaking his head, "I'm just warning you. I hate these damn things, and the doctors never give you a warning…" He pressed the cold disk of a stethoscope to his father's chest, under his shirt, and he could feel the goose bumps start on his skin as he listened quietly- not for the dull throb of a pulse, but the gentle heave and rush of air entering and exiting his fragile lungs.

Peter blinked in confusion, and relocated the device, listening as Walter took another breath. He plucked the earplugs out as he placed a hand on Walter's forehead, looking at his pupils, "Are you sure you've been feeling alright?" Peter questioned.

"Tired," Walter answered, "but really… I'm fine. I don't know why, but… it doesn't even hurt, Peter."

Peter's brows furrowed in confusion as he stowed the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff back into Walter's black leather medical bag, "That's good to hear. But after the accident… I just thought you would be having a worse reaction than this, is all."

"Looking a gift horse in the mouth, son," Walter said with a small smile, rising from his seat on the side of the hotel bed, "And you're the last one to be speaking of proper reactions. I saw that car… I saw it, Peter, and you-"

"I'm alright, Walter," Peter interrupted, "And apparently, so are you, and Astrid, too. There's nothing to worry about- we got really lucky, tonight. That's all there is to it." Peter dropped the bag into an empty dresser drawer, kicking it shut, "besides, just look at this place, it's amazing."

"It makes me want enchiladas," Walter admitted, motioning to the rustic, Hispanic-themed decorum, a mixture of warm reds, off-whites, and teal.

"What I mean to say is that if all of this had never happened, we would have just passed this place up like everyone else. We've just got to take everything in stride- what's the worst that can happen?"

"They could be out of enchiladas," Walter replied, fiddling with the curtains. Peter stepped forward, taking him by the shoulder and pulling the curtains away from him, "Why don't you go have a look around? Ask if they have some leftovers for the night owls."

Walter shrugged, "Okay."

"Try not to get lost," Peter called after him as he shut the door. Peter sighed, shaking his head as he returned to fixing the curtains. His attention was drawn to movement in the dusky courtyard, and a sudden flash as the power returned, lighting the chili-pepper lights strung festively across the frond-top pagoda bar, and the red lights shimmered off her blond hair. She raised her head to look at them with a smile and give a small cheer, which Peter could not hear.

He blinked, realizing that it was the same woman that had met them in the front of the hotel, whom had disappeared before he could properly meet her. Not that she had anything to be shy about- her denim cut-offs revealed a smooth tan, and her white tee-shirt had been twisted and tied to the side in an effort to stave off the desert heat, and both accented a flawless figure. Who was she? Another patron?

Peter decided that he wanted to buy her a drink.

xXx

Astrid looked up as there was a knock at her door, and she shifted the damp towel on her shoulders as she went to the peep hole, squinting into it. Someone snuffed the hole with their thumb, and she retracted slightly, then slid on the night chain, pulling the door open a crack, "Hello…?"

"Hello," Walter stood in front of her door, his hands in his pockets as he gazed off down the hall. He at last glanced at her, and they stood blinking at each other in silence.

Awkward turtle. "Is there something you wanted, Walter?" Astrid questioned politely, removing the chain and pulling the door open further.

"Oh!" Walter exclaimed, and cleared his throat, "I just- I was about to go down and see what I could gather in the field of vittles, and wondered if perhaps you… y'know, wanted anything." He scratched the back of his neck uneasily.

"You mean… food?"

"Vittles," Walter fidgeted, "Food. Yes. I mean, I understand that you are probably exhausted, after such endeavors, and I would be more than happy to bring it up to you, if you'd like."

"Oh," Astrid smiled, "that's really sweet, Walter. But, I'm not feeling very hungry," Truthfully, she didn't know just how she felt. She had thought that taking a shower would have cleared her thoughts, perhaps at last relent in her odd feelings, but nothing had come of it but wet hair, "Thanks anyways, though."

Walter only shrugged one shoulder, "Very well." and he turned on his heel, starting down the hall.

"I'll walk with you, if you want," Astrid offered, and he paused. She doffed her towel onto the nearby dresser and plucked a few wet strands out of her eyes. She stuffed her key into her back pocket and shut the door behind herself to follow after him, "Wait up, Walter."

They were pushing open the door to the outdoor corridor when the lights overhead flickered and came on, bathing them in a sudden bluish light. They heard distant cheers, and continued on their way.

"Maybe the phones are back up," Astrid said hopefully.

"Who will you be calling?" Walter questioned.

Astrid thought for a few moments, "A tow truck, I guess. But I guess it can wait until the morning, since I'm staying here for the night."

"Do you have anyone that you need to contact?" Walter asked, slowing as he looked out over the empty pool, the bottom scattered with dark eucalyptus leaves and dust.

"Like who?"

"I don't know. Your folks, a sibling, your husband…"

Astrid laughed, "My parents live in Maine. My mom, anyways. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and I'll be damned if I marry a local. So no, Walter- I don't have anyone to deal with my problems for me."

Walter glanced at her, "I'm sorry then." Astrid raised a brow questioningly, and he shrugged, "I always have Peter, to deal with my problems. He treats them like they're his own. I love him dearly, but… sometimes I want to keep my problems to myself, so I won't bother him. A bit like you, miss…?"

"Astrid." Astrid sighed, sliding her hands into her pockets as she gazed up at the dull moon, "How old are you, Walter?" She questioned.

"Sixty…" He paused, concentrating, "…two. Why?"

"You've seen a lot of things, haven't you?"

"More than I care to admit."

"Have you ever seen someone like me make it? In the world, I mean." She stammered, as he looked at her quizzically, "I know it sounds stupid. But, sometimes I don't think that good things happen to people like me… that I'm just lying to myself to keep myself going, and I don't even know where it's all going to end up."

"I would say that I don't know enough about you to answer. But I can tell you, with a great deal of painful personal experience, that no part of life should be spent waiting." He opened the door for her politely, and followed after her, "Now, tell me if you smell enchiladas, in the vicinity."

xXx