Willow
"YOU CAN'T STAY HERE," HE SAYS. HIS EYES SCAN THE LOT, SHARP AND alert, seeming to track some danger I can't see. I'm unreasonably relieved to see him. He's still a stranger, still very possibly dangerous, but I have the inexplicable feeling he's on my side.
I try to play it cool. Try not to come across like a totally helpless damsel in distress. "This is where I have reservations." There's a flicker of distaste across his harshly beautiful visage.
"You seeing the same things I am?"
I am. I see the dinginess of it and it just makes me feel… well, defeated. Like this is as good as it gets for me. Driving my old beater of a car to the worst motel in town. Knowing I'll have to check my bank balance before buying a box of cereal for dinner. Wondering, for the millionth time this week, where Dad has disappeared to without any warning. He's always been absent-minded, but this is a whole new level. I sigh. "It isn't the Ritz, that's for sure."
