Debating between normal, rational thought and sentimentality, Brian glanced up and down the street, making certain that no one was watching, turning the brick over and over between his hands. Feeling the coast to be safely clear, he fumbled with the brick, trying to fit it into his coat's pocket. To his dismay, no matter which way he turned it, it just wouldn't fit. Probably better off anyhow - it would have torn the lining. He removed his dark tan fedora and carefully wrapped the fabric around the brick and hugged the hat close to his side, hoping to not draw too much attention to himself by any passersby. Not particularly wanting to haul a brick all around the city, he made his way back to the hotel.

As he entered the revolving door, he didn't give much thought to the fact that he was already unwrapping the brick to look at it again. The man at the front desk, however, had different thoughts.

"Sir, you are not to be throwing that in here!" he said quickly; his broken English becoming more evident as he grew nervous.

"Hm?" Brian looked up, confused for a brief moment, before he realized the man was referring to what was in his hands. "Oh! No, no, I'm not throwing it, I promise," he replied, raising one hand in innocence.

"Then what are you doing with it?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and his words dripped with skepticism.

Brian was a bit baffled that the man didn't believe him. "It just...I don't know how to put it..." he sighed, approaching the desk slowly with downcast eyes, ready to share both his story and his new acquisition. "I suppose you could say it's a piece of sentimental value to me." He placed the brick gently on the desk, careful not to scratch the finish. "There used to be this club that an old flame of mine used to perform at--"

"Ah, Sally..." the man said, a wave of nostalgia hitting him as he lightly touched the lipstick on the brick.

Brian's attention focused instantly on the man behind the desk. "Wait, what did you just say??"

The man looked up, sporting the expression of a deer caught in the headlights. "I... should probably explain myself, shouldn't I?"

Brian couldn't even will himself to speak, his mouth hanging open in shock. He nodded, barely able to get out the words "Yes...please!!!"

The man looked around in either direction - a paranoia held over from the war - making sure no one was within earshot before asking, "This came from the Kit Kat Club, didn't it?"

Brian simply nodded. "How did you know?"

"That Sally certainly did get around, didn't she?" he asked, his voice suddenly changing entirely; it was suddenly more nasally, more shrill. A voice whom could only belong to one person...

Brian's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "The emcee?!"

The man quickly shushed him. "Shh!!!" He glanced around again before pointing to his name tag once more.

Brian re-read it, and shook his head, smiling. It all made sense now. "I can't believe I didn't put two and two together. How's Sally? I mean...is she..." He trailed off, wringing his hands in anxiety.

"Alive? Last I knew, yes."

"Where is she now?" Brian's heart fluttered in his chest, unable to believe his luck.

The man looked over at the large grandfather clock inhabiting the lobby. "My shift ends in about an hour... Can I meet you in your room or somewhere to talk about this? This isn't something to be discussed in public."

Brian felt a tinge of sickness hit his stomach, fearing bad news if it couldn't be discussed here, but did his best to ignore it. "Yes... yes, that would be alright." He turned to head off to his room, but the man set his hand heavily on top of the brick, stopping Brian from taking it.

"I'll have to confiscate this, though. Sorry, sir." His eyes and expression echoed the apology.

Brian nodded sadly with a sigh, truly not wanting to leave behind the last reminder he had of the woman who'd changed his life. Knowing he had no choice, he returned to his room, hoping the man would be able to give him some good news for a change.