On one hand, Dietrich liked that Troy was quiet while he was hungover. On the other, Dietrich was bored. Finally crossing into Washington didn't elicit any celebration from either of them. Dietrich muttered the world's flattest, "Yay, we made it. Almost," while Troy was staring blankly upward, looking incredibly queasy.

"How are you?" Dietrich asked.

"I feel like I'm on a really big swing right now," Troy said.

"Do you need me to pull over?"

"No. Not yet."

"Please let me know as soon as you need it. Do not try to hide it."

"Nope."

Dietrich gave Troy a sideways glance, and began praying that he would actually be honest and not try to tough it out. I speak from experience when I say that it is impossible to resist the urge to throw up when it comes. Do not act like you can fight it, Troy. And you will feel better when you get it out. Dietrich chose not to say any of that out loud, though, as he was convinced Troy wouldn't listen. "What do you think? Another day of driving and we will reach the coast?"

"I don't know. I've never been here before," Troy said.

Dietrich's shoulders slumped as he sighed heavily. "Do you have a guess?"

"No."

Dietrich cursed in German. "Alright. Forget I asked."

Troy looked over at Dietrich. "How about you? Are you okay?"

"I am just… peachy, Troy."

"Honestly, peaches do and don't sound good right now. They do sound good because peaches are, well, good, especially with vanilla ice cream and brown sugar. They also don't because every thought about food just makes my stomach feel weird right now."

"Then stop thinking about food." Dietrich refused to admit that peaches with vanilla ice cream and brown sugar actually sounded like a good treat at the moment.

"Little too late for that."

Dietrich bit his tongue, and braced himself to pull over.

"Tully's wife made peach cobbler for us one summer. That was really good, with whipped cream."

"Troy."

"Yeah?"

"You just said thinking about food makes you feel sick, so stop talking about food."

Troy was quiet for all of ten seconds. "I've been told peach tea is really good. It actually smells good, too."

Dietrich groaned, regretting his choice of words with "peachy." He drew in a breath. "Can we talk about something else before you puke all over the truck?"

"Sure, Dietrich, what do you want to talk about?"

"I have no idea! Anything other than food."

"Okay." Troy looked like he was thinking for a moment, then a sad expression crossed his face. "I started thinking about Shauna. I miss her."

"Do you want to call her when we reach a stop?"

"Yeah." Troy glanced over at Dietrich. "Hey… could we… not tell Shauna that I got drunk?"

"I told Moffitt. Are you not worried about him or Vanora saying something to her?"

"Moffitt knows not to just bring up stuff like that without talking to me about it first. There's a small chance he would, if he got worried. I don't know, I… don't want Shauna getting worried that this'll become a habit."

"I highly doubt it will," Dietrich said.

Troy resumed looking up, and sighed. "On one hand, doing this with you has been fun, but I've also been feeling off. Not sick, just… off. Emotionally. We're getting closer and closer to the end of the trip, and we still haven't found a solution to the problem."

"Truthfully, we do not even know what the problem is."

"Exactly, and since it sounds like we'll never know, how do I move forward? Do I keep trying, or quit?"

Dietrich gave a sigh of his own. "Do you want my honest opinion?"

"Yeah."

"I think you should quit. At least for now. Maybe wait a year or two. If all this is going to do is make you depressed, then I think it is time to stop."

Troy nodded a little. "Okay. Thanks, Dietrich."

Dietrich briefly looked at Troy, then resumed his focus on driving. "I wish I had something better to say to you, because I do not like telling anyone to quit at something they want. I know how badly you want children of your own. I have seen how you interact with Moffitt, Hitch, and Tully's children. You care about them as if they were yours, and I have said to you that you and Shauna would make wonderful parents. I cannot imagine how tough the last four years have been for you, but please—please, I am begging you—do not feel guilty. Whatever is wrong, or whatever bad luck you are having, it is not your fault."

Troy went quiet for a moment. "I wonder if that's been the problem all along. I do feel like it's my fault. Shauna felt like it was her fault, and I… I tried insisting it was mine, even though we don't know anything about what's going on. All because I didn't want her feeling bad."

"Because contrary to what you were slurring last night, you love Shauna."

"I do. I love her, and I miss her a lot."

"I am sure she will understand wanting to take a break from trying."

"Alright. Well… what'll we do if we try again in a few years and nothing happens?"

"Call me and I will take you on another road trip. I am not letting you sulk in your barn again."

"Okay." Troy smirked. "Next time, let's go the other way, and drive all the way to Florida. It'll be a much longer drive, but it'll be fun. Or maybe I'll take you to Alaska."

"Alaska is too cold. I would rather do Florida."

"Then we'll do Florida."

"If I may be honest, I think it would be nice to do a trip with you when you are not depressed."

"If you want to do something like that, just say so."

"Fine. Someday, I would like to take a drive with you. Just for fun."

Troy looked at Dietrich while grinning from ear to ear. "Do you remember how long it took for you to admit that you liked spending time with me?"

"Do me a favor, Troy, and please do not rub it in."

"I'll try, but it's still funny how you were dead-set against actually being friends for the longest time."

"And it was in the past, please let it go," Dietrich groaned. "Sometimes I cannot decide if I spend time with you because I enjoy it, or because the idea of you running around unsupervised is too terrifying for me to handle." He glanced at Troy, who was still grinning. "At least it feels like you are steadily turning back to normal—well, as normal as you can possibly get."

That night would be their last one on the road before they reached the Pacific coast. Fortunately, they found a town before sunset, and checked into a hotel before going out to get dinner. Dietrich felt that day had gone better than most, as it really did look like Troy was slowly getting back to normal. He just hoped things would stay that way.

Like in Dietrich's case, Troy was at his best when they were talking about something unrelated to what had him so upset in the first place. When they returned to their hotel, however, Dietrich found himself slightly worried that this was merely a circular pattern, and that Troy would go back to being upset in the morning. Just like what Hitch and Tully kept worrying about with me, he thought.

While watching the television in an attempt to fall asleep, Dietrich resisted the urge to go next door to Troy's room and check on him. I would have found that annoying, but Troy is not me—he is the exact opposite of me, mostly. Maybe he would appreciate the concern. Or he is already asleep. Dietrich muted the TV to listen for a moment. Well, I do not hear any snoring, so he might still be awake. He sighed, again debating with himself whether or not he should check. Finally, he got out of bed and put a shirt on before going out into the hallway. He stood by the door after knocking, waiting for a response. When there was no answer after a few minutes, Dietrich knocked again.

He is probably asleep, which you should be right now. Dietrich opened the door. Sure enough, Troy was asleep—and thankfully not snoring—but the lights were on and so was the television. Heaven's sake, Troy. Dietrich turned the TV off, put the remote on the bedside table, adjusted Troy's pillow, and turned the light off before leaving the room. He went back into his own room, pulled off his shirt, and was asleep as his head touched the pillow.

In the morning, Dietrich awoke to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He was in a rather comfortable position, and not ready to leave the bed, but with an irritable groan, he sat up. He shuffled from the bed to the door, opening it and not caring about how presentable he looked to whoever was outside.

Fortunately, the person who was daring to disturb his sleep was Troy. "Hey, I think someone was in my room last night," Troy said.

"What makes you say that?" Dietrich mumbled.

"I don't remember turning off the TV or the light."

"That would be me. I went in to check on you."

"Oh. How did you get in my room?"

"We gave each other the spares, remember?"

"Ah. Now I do. Thanks."

"You woke me up at seven AM to tell me this?"

"Yeah. I take it you're ready for a cup of coffee?"

"Let me get dressed first, please." Dietrich closed the door, and tiredly got changed into a set of clean clothes. The first thing I plan on doing when we reach the coast is finding a laundromat. This is my last set of clean stuff, he thought.

He made sure he had everything before leaving the room. He glared at Troy as they headed down to the dining room. "Please, promise me that when we get to the coast, you will let me sleep in."

"I can't make that a promise, Dietrich," Troy said.

"Of course. Then again, someone has to make sure you are not terrorizing the town early in the morning." A warm and delicious scent caught Dietrich's attention when they entered the dining room. Cinnamon rolls… Suddenly, all is right with the world. Dietrich set his bag down before getting a plate and finding the source of that wonderful smell—only to find that the cinnamon rolls were quite small. "Troy?"

"Yeah?" Troy walked over, and a smirk crossed his face. "Uh-oh. Those look… kinda tiny."

"They are." Dietrich sighed. "Oh, well." He placed several on his plate, and moved on to pour a cup of coffee. He and Troy were somehow the only people in the dining room at the moment, but Dietrich certainly wasn't complaining. He liked the quiet, and when he sat down with his plate of food and a cup of coffee, he was treated to a show of Troy trying to peel an orange. Dietrich put one of the pitifully small cinnamon rolls in his mouth. "Do you need help, Troy?"

"No," Troy muttered. "I got it."

"Alright." Dietrich hid a grin with his coffee cup. His grin swiftly faded when he heard the particularly brutal sound of Troy managing to tear the unfortunate orange in half, and lowered his mug to see Troy, covered in orange juice, looking down at his dish, which was also covered in orange juice. Everything on it was covered in orange juice.

Troy shrugged before proceeding to eat his now orange-soaked breakfast.

Dietrich resumed drinking his coffee. Did you expect anything else, Hans? No. No, you did not.

They left the hotel after finishing breakfast, and getting the lake of orange juice cleaned up. The drive was quiet for the first hour or so, as the two were looking forward to finally reaching their destination. Dietrich had to stay somewhat to the southwest in order to avoid getting pulling into traffic heading to Seattle, but they eventually arrived late in the afternoon at a very small town on a hill overlooking a heavily wooded area bordering the vast, blue Pacific.

Dietrich felt relieved that they wouldn't be stuck in the truck for a few days. Troy stared out at the view, the wind buffeting his hat a little. "This is incredible," he said.

"This is the furthest west I have ever been," Dietrich added. He picked up his suitcase, and Troy's. "We should get checked in before we do anything, though."

"Yeah." Troy didn't sound like he was paying much attention.

After getting situated in a hotel room—once again, they had to share a room with two beds, they started exploring the town. Only when the sun began setting did they wander down through a park to get to a spot where they could watch the deep reds, pinks, and oranges of the sky melt into the Pacific. That spot was a large, smooth rock under a few tall conifers. Looking out, there was nothing but water as far as the eye could see.

We made it. Dietrich sat down with a heavy sigh. He felt as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders. There was definitely a bit of exhaustion, but he was happy that they made it to the Pacific. He looked at Troy as his shorter companion sat down as well.

"We're here," Troy said. "Now what?"

"Just sit, relax, enjoy the breeze." Dietrich closed his eyes. "Try not to think about anything except here and now."

"That's easier said than done."

"Maybe if you stop talking, take a deep breath, and take in everything around you, you will eventually relax. Try it—very slow, deep breath in, and then slowly exhale. Do not think about anything else but the sound of the wind and the tide. Think about each breath, each heartbeat, and simply appreciate the fact that you are alive."

Troy made a face. "Are you being serious right now?"

Dietrich sighed. "Just try it, Troy, please?"

"Fine." Troy rolled his eyes, but still drew in a deep breath.

"Breathe naturally, but deeply, until your lungs cannot hold anymore. Now, release, but not all at once. Gradual, steady, until your lungs are empty." Dietrich watched Troy as he slowly exhaled. "And… again. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. In. Out. In… and out."

He was surprised that Troy was actually trying, and even more surprised that it seemed to be working. Dietrich had done breathing exercises in the past as a way of trying to manage his thoughts whenever they began to race, and whether or not they worked was dependent on the day. Sometimes, he could get himself calmed down and able to move on with his life. Other times, it just made things worse. He applauded himself in his head for suggesting this to Troy.

Troy was quiet for several minutes as he continued breathing slowly and deeply. Eventually, he opened his eyes, and glanced at Dietrich. "If someone told me during the war I'd be doing breathing exercises with you, I would think they were criminally insane."

"Has it helped at all?" Dietrich asked.

"Honestly? Yeah. It has." Troy drew his legs up, resting his head on his knees. "You know I've never been the best at… relaxing and just taking in what's around me."

"That is quite the understatement."

"Kinda feel like… this is what I've really needed. To learn how to stop and just… just breathe. If I'm going to take a break from trying to have kids, I'm going to need to learn how to relax."

"Yes, you are."

"And I have you to help me."

"You do. Somehow."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sunset. The chorus of crickets had been getting louder as the sky darkened. A waxing moon was shining down on them, preventing it from being completely dark. Dietrich noticed Troy turning to face him as the sun was just about to finish disappearing below the horizon.

"What should we do now?" Troy asked. "You hungry?"

"Not yet," Dietrich replied.

"I'm not, either." Troy turned back to the water. "Think we can swim here?"

"Did you bring a bathing suit?"

"No."

"Well, I am not swimming with nothing on."

"You can wear just your boxers. It'll be fine. There's a laundromat in the hotel that we can use."

On one hand, Dietrich felt that going along with one of Troy's ideas wasn't smart. On the other… how many times in his life would he get to swim in the Pacific Ocean? Dietrich sighed. "Alright. We will take a swim, and then get dinner."

They found a more secluded spot to get undressed. Dietrich hung his clothes on a low tree branch, then followed Troy down to the water. He watched Troy go first, suddenly curious as to how cold the water would be.

"The water's great! Come on!" Troy motioned for Dietrich to follow as he waded further into the very edge of the great Pacific.

Dietrich trusted him—big mistake. A light tidal wave washed over most of his body, dousing him in cold water. He cursed aloud. "The water is pretty damn cold, Troy!"

"You won't feel it after a while."

"Is that even safe?"

"We won't be in very long if you don't want to."

"If you say so." Dietrich knew it was probably best to just immerse himself and get used to the water, like tearing off a bandage. It wasn't dangerously cold, but cold enough for him to be uncomfortable. He kept going anyway, until coming to a spot where he could comfortably crouch and submerge himself up to his shoulders. I will most certainly be taking a hot shower after this, he thought.

Troy wandered out to where the water came up to his chest. Dietrich watched him submerge, then surface, swimming further out from shore. He wasn't exactly the most graceful swimmer, but it made sense for someone who came from the middle of the country, far away from large bodies of water. Dietrich didn't consider himself a great swimmer, either, but he felt his was passable. Neither of them were looking to earn any medals, after all.

Dietrich began heading toward Troy when he noticed that his friend seemed determined to go out as far as possible. At one point, he tried to rest by standing on the soft, packed sand below, only to find that the water was now deeper than he was tall. Dietrich didn't particularly like that. He wasn't terribly afraid of deep water, but he preferred to be where he could see the bottom.

It had gotten dark enough to where Dietrich could no longer see Troy on the surface of the water. He stayed close to the distorted beam of moonlight, then spotted Troy's supine form breaking up the moonlight as he floated by.

"There you are," Troy said. "I almost thought you went back."

"With you still out here? No." Dietrich shrugged before giving floating on his back a try. He stared upward at the dark-blue sky, speckled with stars. The next few days would be this—no driving, no rushing around, and, hopefully, no arguments with Troy.

His moment of bliss and tranquility was broken by Troy splashing water at him. Dietrich glared at him. "How old are you?"

Troy responded with a quiet giggle before tossing more water on him.

"Really? If that is the game you want to play—" Dietrich made a wide sweeping motion with his arm, sending water in Troy's direction.

Troy ducked underwater, narrowly dodging Dietrich's "attack," and surfaced a second later. "You missed."

"No kidding." Dietrich tried again, and missed again.

Upon surfacing, Troy doused Dietrich, then began swimming to shore. Dietrich sighed and shook his head before following. They returned to the spot where they left their clothes, both shivering with cold when they left the water.

"Damn it, damn it, it's cold!" Troy hissed.

"I told you!" Dietrich growled.

"Hey, it was fun while it lasted."

"Well, I would very much like to get dry quickly." The feeling of cold, wet boxers was one of the worst Dietrich had ever experienced. He hiked up his trousers, cursing to himself in both English and German about how uncomfortable everything became once it made contact with his wet skin. Worse yet was the smell of the sea permeating everything. At least in this town, the residents were used to that overpowering salty smell. Dietrich wondered if he had been used to such a smell at one point, having been born in Kiel, on the North Sea. Moving to Munich did no favors for his tolerance of that smell.

No one in the hotel lobby gave the two a second glance when they jogged through, sopping wet, shivering, and stinking of the sea. When they reached their room, a problem swiftly arose, that being the fact that there was only one bathroom. Someone would have to wait, which wouldn't be fun, even though it would only be five minutes.

Troy looked at Dietrich. "You go first."

"No, you go first," Dietrich said.

They stopped, giving each other a confused look.

"Well, that is not what I was expecting to happen." Dietrich hugged himself, trying to suppress a shiver.

"Yeah. I thought we'd be fighting over this." Troy nudged Dietrich toward the bathroom. "You first, buddy. You're shivering more than me."

"Fine." Dietrich grabbed some dry clothes from his bag before going into the bathroom. He heaved a sigh of relief after undressing, getting in the shower, and letting hot water cascade down his cold, salt-covered body. He leaned against the wall, feeling the warmth relaxing his muscles, which were sore from hours of driving and tensing with cold.

Troy knocked on the door, saying, "Dietrich? You mind hurrying up?"

Of course, the feeling of normalcy couldn't last forever. Dietrich finished his shower, and left the bathroom. He took his stash of dirty clothes and headed down to the hotel laundromat. When he returned to the room, Troy had just gotten out of the shower. "That was quick."

"Yeah. I'm ready for dinner," Troy said. "What're you hungry for? I imagine in this town there's seafood, seafood, and more seafood."

"Seafood is quite good," Dietrich replied. "I actually would not mind that."

"If that's what you want."

"If we spot a Greek restaurant, we can do that."

"Out here?"

"Why not?" Dietrich shrugged. "Your grandparents somehow ended up in Wyoming of all places."

"Good point."

They waited until Dietrich's laundry was finished. Neither of them felt like wandering around the whole town that night. The nearest restaurant was dedicated to seafood of all kinds. All kinds.

Troy made a face when he opened the menu. "I know squid and octopus occasionally show up on Greek menus, but that's where I draw the line."

"Ah, so you are not always a garbage disposal," Dietrich said with a smirk. "Would you rather eat squid or drink tea?"

"Oh, that's a tough one."

"I can picture poor Moffitt's blood pressure elevating sharply right now."

"Yeah, well, tea and squid are equally… inedible."

"This coming from a man who ate unsweetened baking chocolate."

Troy rolled his eyes. "You know, we managed to go a few days without you bringing that up."

"I am aware of that. It is still funny to me."

"I'm glad you think it's hilarious."

Dietrich reached over the table to ruffle Troy's drying hair. "You have been a good source of laughter over the last few years, but you have also been a good friend, which is shocking, given our history."

"Even though I have a tendency to drive you insane?"

Dietrich nodded. "I know I can rely on you to help me when… things are not going well."

"You can. Always. And I know I can rely on you to take me on long road trips whenever I'm having a rough time." Troy looked out the window at the street. The Pacific and the moon shining down on the water could be seen between two buildings across the road. "Going out in the water was fun. I thought you were going to argue against it when I made that suggestion."

"I did argue, a little, but I realized I probably will not have an opportunity like this again, or at least not for a long time." Dietrich looked back down at his menu, then out the window as well. "I am looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow morning."

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you?"

"Find something productive to do. Let me sleep, please."

Troy nodded, then looked like a thought struck him. "What if I find a bakery that sells really big cinnamon rolls? Or honey-vanilla crème donuts?"

"Then you have my permission to wake me up, but that is only—only—if you find a bakery with large cinnamon rolls or honey-vanilla donuts. Or if you somehow accidentally set the hotel on fire and everyone needs to evacuate."

"I promise, I won't set anything on fire. I'm not that crazy."

"I would like to believe that. To say that you have done some absurd things over the years would be an understatement."

"You'll have nothing to worry about, Dietrich, I promise. You can enjoy a morning of sleeping in."

"Thank you." Part of Dietrich wanted to doubt Troy's ability to keep that promise, but another part kept whispering that everything would be fine.

They left the restaurant right before closing, and returned to the hotel. Dietrich changed into his nightclothes. Once he was in bed, he didn't plan on moving. The bed itself was quite comfortable, so he hoped he would fall asleep quickly. As he reached over to turn the lamp off in between the beds, he noticed Troy staring up at the ceiling with a sad, longing expression.

Dietrich sighed. "What is the matter, Troy?"

"Huh?" Troy looked at him.

"I said, what is the matter? You look sad."

"Oh. I… just… thinking of Shauna. I know it's way too late to call."

"Part of you wants to anyway."

"Yeah. Part of me just wants to head home tomorrow."

"Look," Dietrich said with another sigh, "if you really want to go home, we will go home."

"You're tired, though."

"Yes, but like I have said before, this whole trip was to help you. It is not a vacation for either of us."

"It kind of is."

"Technically, yes, but you are not going to hurt me if you decide that you want to go home sooner than we planned."

"Did we even plan anything for this?"

"Not really. I came up with this spontaneously."

"Still. I don't want to take advantage of you and be an inconvenience."

"There was once a time where you were nothing but an inconvenience for me. Now, you are somehow my best friend and I am telling you the complete, honest truth when I say that if you want to go home, I will take you home."

"Wait a minute." Troy turned to face Dietrich, his arms folded over his chest. "So, I'm not just your friend, I'm your best friend?"

"Somehow… yes."

"Huh. And I didn't have to prompt that out of you. You just came right out and said it."

Dietrich sighed. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at Troy, grumbling a curse at him in German. The pillow came flying back, landing in Dietrich's lap. "Back to the topic at hand," Dietrich said, "I will take you home if you want to."

"Alright, alright."

"I will not complain about it."

"You'll find something to complain about."

"I will not!"

"I'll be fair, though—let's see how I feel tomorrow."

"Fine." Dietrich highly doubted that Troy would actually want to go home the next day, but he reminded himself that this was Troy, and that things could change on a dime. If Troy was determined to go home, he would go home.

Troy reached over to turn the light off, plunging the room into darkness, save for moonlight spilling through the curtains. Dietrich turned to face the window, and let his tiredness drape over him to send him to sleep.

His sleep wasn't particularly restful, as he was plagued with fitful dreams, including some that combined his strange experience in the Montana ghost town with his usual nightmares. The town was populated not with the spirits of its previous residents, but with his men. Their injuries and causes of death were on display for the world to see. Dietrich watched them walk, limp, and crawl around, his nausea so powerful that he wondered if he would throw up when he awoke. He tried backing away from the town, and looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Troy's pickup. Instead, he saw the destroyed husks of halftracks, tanks, and supply trucks, along with more ghosts. There was no escape, apart from waking up.

Dietrich stayed still, hoping the spirits wouldn't notice him. Instead, some began approaching him, and encircling him. He heard one hiss, "So this is what we died for. For you to bow to Troy's every whim, like the lives he took meant nothing to you!"

Dietrich couldn't tell if he was choosing not to respond, or if he was unable to respond. He avoided making eye contact with the spirit who spoke, a young soldier with a hole blasted through his helmet, presumably by one of the Rats' Thompsons.

A familiar voice broke through his dream. "Dietrich, you're having a nightmare. Wake up."

Dietrich pulled himself from his dream with a jolt. He felt someone gently squeezing his shoulder, and looked up to see Troy standing by the bed, giving him a concerned expression.

"I know you said not to wake you, but you were tossing, turning, mumbling, and breathing pretty hard," Troy said. "You okay?"

"Fine, Troy."

"No. Don't say 'fine.' That always means the exact opposite for some reason."

Dietrich sighed. "I… was dreaming about that damn ghost town, but there were the spirits of my men wandering around, telling me that they died so I could bow to your every whim, like their lives meant nothing to me."

"That's not true. They meant everything to you."

"They did." Dietrich rubbed his face, still feeling the leaden weight of sleep in his brain. "Not the first time I have had dreams like that."

"No. I do know dreams and thoughts like that were what led to you… you know."

"You do not need to worry about that happening again. I am used to these kinds of dreams." Dietrich looked at the clock on the nightstand. "It is only six in the morning. Go back to bed."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Bed, Troy. Please." Dietrich turned away from him, expecting to not get much more sleep, and for it to not be as good as he was hoping for. When he woke up again, he turned to check the time. The clock was concealed from his view by a large white box. What the hell is this? Dietrich sat up, and rubbed his eyes before taking the box. Only Troy could have left it, and he wasn't in the room. And of course, you could not even bother making your bed. Dietrich sighed and shook his head while opening the box. Inside were several glazed and filled donuts, along with a card, reading, "Local bakery didn't have honey-vanilla. Got these instead. Figured you'd need something to cheer yourself up. I'm down by the water when you wake up. – Troy."

Dietrich set the card on the nightstand. As tempting as it was to just sit in bed and eat the donuts, it was close to nine in the morning, and Dietrich wasn't planning on sleeping all day. He got dressed, and brought the box with him when he left the hotel to head down to the shore.