Punisher's eyes said it all, and I looked away when he spoke again. Memories shone the brightest in the eyes of those who didn't want to remember. I didn't know his story, I didn't want to know his story, no one did. But I nodded lightly, an easy smirk on my face as I walked up to the counter. "Hey Grey, how've ya been?"
"Get out of here, Damien, before you burn the place down again." The overweight manager glared at me, but laughed and stuck out his hand, "Good seein' ya mate."
I took his hand, shaking one firmly and smiling. "Justin's here, I need to know where and who with."
"Now, Damien..." Grey said, shaking his head, "I can't just tell you that..."
"Which is why I plan on paying for the room." The yellow envelope slid across the counter and Grey took it, glancing inside, "For the next two days and the cleanup...and probably even repairs on the rest of the hotel too. You can make this joint a two star."
"You kidding, then I have to live up to higher standards..." Grey handed me a key, sticking the money in a hide-hole under the counter as he did. "Room number's on the key, don't tear the window out this time."
"Sure thing, Grey." I flipped the key into my palm before motioning for Punisher to follow me. I glanced at the number, third floor, room eight. I'd used that room myself, plenty of times. Reserved for folks like us, like most of the third floor. I glanced back at Punisher and said, "That's how I worked, I haven't done that in a long time."