A
Acorn
Guest
It wasn't the first time he'd had to pack his things in a hurry. When he'd been forced to move from Texas to live closer to the facility, he'd been given twenty minutes to get his shit together, and he'd realized how little time that really was while he dug through his apartment trying to find the things that he absolutely had to have. Since then, he'd kept those belongings — his pictures and little bits of his old life — together, so it was only a matter of finding his box, grabbing some clothes, all his things from the bathroom, and he was ready to go. He'd even squirreled away some cash, mostly from the tips he'd received when he'd waited tables, and though it wasn't much, it'd be enough for them to get through a few days, maybe a week, without needing to use credit cards or anything traceable; it was breathing room.
After they'd gotten all their stuff together, they loaded up and hit the road. It didn't phase him to leave. The only attachment he had to the city was driving the car they were in, but he wondered what it was like for Rita. She was leaving behind an apartment, her job, everything she'd had before he'd crashed into her life. He could've asked, he'd even intended to, but if Rita suspected her apartment was being watched, what would've stopped them from bugging her car, too? It was better to remain silent. Rita seemed to be on board with that, too, because as she drove, she didn't say much. Between the quiet, the vibrations of the car, and how comfortable the seat was, Leon found it impossible not to just… lean his head back for a little, so he could rest his eyes for a bit.
He didn't wake up until they'd pulled into a motel parking lot and Rita cut the engine. It was the sudden lack of movement that made him lift his head and sit up so he could rub the back of his neck, soothing the muscles that were protesting the fact he'd fallen asleep with his head wedged between his seat and the door panel.
"Sorry," he said as he moved on to rubbing his face and trying to get his brain to work past the fuzziness of having just woken up. While he was still trying to orient himself, Rita left the car and went to the lobby. He felt bad for it once he realized she'd gone, because she'd just driven for who knew how long and he'd passed out. To make it up to her, he insisted on carrying their bags into the motel room once she came back with a key.
It was an unremarkable room, with a queen-sized bed, a table and two chairs near a window with wide blinds, an air conditioner unit, an old box television, and decorations that looked like they'd been updated last in the nineties — all pink and baby blue. There was a weird musty smell to the room, but he didn't remark on it. All he wanted to do was drop their bags on the table and then toe off his shoes and sit on the edge of the bed, so he did. The bed creaked as he settled onto it and the comforter was stiff from what he hoped was starch, but it didn't really matter if it wasn't. What mattered was that they'd made it out. They were safe. Neither of them were stuck in a room with Lorelei. Jenny might've let them go, they might still be tracking them, but they weren't in any immediate danger from the witch.
Leon ran his hands through his hair, wincing when his wrists brushed against it, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The skin where the silver had pressed was raw and red, covered with blisters, and still throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the pain when he'd still been handcuffed.
"Think we're okay to talk now?" he asked Rita.
After they'd gotten all their stuff together, they loaded up and hit the road. It didn't phase him to leave. The only attachment he had to the city was driving the car they were in, but he wondered what it was like for Rita. She was leaving behind an apartment, her job, everything she'd had before he'd crashed into her life. He could've asked, he'd even intended to, but if Rita suspected her apartment was being watched, what would've stopped them from bugging her car, too? It was better to remain silent. Rita seemed to be on board with that, too, because as she drove, she didn't say much. Between the quiet, the vibrations of the car, and how comfortable the seat was, Leon found it impossible not to just… lean his head back for a little, so he could rest his eyes for a bit.
He didn't wake up until they'd pulled into a motel parking lot and Rita cut the engine. It was the sudden lack of movement that made him lift his head and sit up so he could rub the back of his neck, soothing the muscles that were protesting the fact he'd fallen asleep with his head wedged between his seat and the door panel.
"Sorry," he said as he moved on to rubbing his face and trying to get his brain to work past the fuzziness of having just woken up. While he was still trying to orient himself, Rita left the car and went to the lobby. He felt bad for it once he realized she'd gone, because she'd just driven for who knew how long and he'd passed out. To make it up to her, he insisted on carrying their bags into the motel room once she came back with a key.
It was an unremarkable room, with a queen-sized bed, a table and two chairs near a window with wide blinds, an air conditioner unit, an old box television, and decorations that looked like they'd been updated last in the nineties — all pink and baby blue. There was a weird musty smell to the room, but he didn't remark on it. All he wanted to do was drop their bags on the table and then toe off his shoes and sit on the edge of the bed, so he did. The bed creaked as he settled onto it and the comforter was stiff from what he hoped was starch, but it didn't really matter if it wasn't. What mattered was that they'd made it out. They were safe. Neither of them were stuck in a room with Lorelei. Jenny might've let them go, they might still be tracking them, but they weren't in any immediate danger from the witch.
Leon ran his hands through his hair, wincing when his wrists brushed against it, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The skin where the silver had pressed was raw and red, covered with blisters, and still throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the pain when he'd still been handcuffed.
"Think we're okay to talk now?" he asked Rita.
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