Santi shook her head.  So many things were happening,<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>happened since the previous morning... she hadn't wanted any of this.  She'd just wanted a coffee and a little fun... some spending money to enjoy the festival... instead she'd been swallowed alive, had shot mysterious black-clothed men, ridden in a helicopter for the first time in her life... and learned she was some kind of freak.  A freak... like Tim...<br/><br/>Tim.  Tim was insane.  He was completely insane.  He believed the people he'd eaten were alive inside him.  He even went so far as to make some wierd effect with his voice... as though he'd swallowed sound devices instead of people and they all suddenly clicked on as he spoke.  The effect was creepy, and scary.  And if he really believed they were still alive inside him, somehow... then as far as he was concerned he hadn't murdered anyone.  And if that was the case, then if he suddenly decided she looked tasty, he could swallow her up and kill her and still think he'd done nothing wrong!<br/><br/>...Santi's walking was a little funny for a few seconds as she imagined that.  Horrified as she was of it, still she couldn't help but to see a vague appeal to the image.  Her body still remembered Tim and Shari's caresses even now... she shivered.  she really<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>as insane as Tim in her own way...<br/><br/>"Whatever you say, Tim," she whispered.  "Whatever you say."  She hugged herself.  The one-piece suit she wore was still damp, and still tight... Sam was right about them needing different clothes.  She'd stick out almost as much this way as if she were completely naked.  "You... you do whatever you want.  Just not to me.  That's all."  The quaver in her voice probably gave away her conflicting emotions, and she silently cursed herself for it.  She did<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>want him to ever swallow her, or even touch her, ever again.  She didn't.  She<span style="font-style: italic">didn't!</span><br/><br/>Sam's complete disinterest in Tim's attempts to explain himself were disturbing as well.  What if Sam had seen this kind of insanity as a janitor in... that place?  What if... what if, somehow, someway, there was some kind of<span style="font-style: italic">truth</span>to what Tim was saying?  But... no.  Once a person was dead, they were dead... as dead as Santi would be by now if Sam hadn't made Tim puker her back up...<br/><br/>"I... I need a shower," she whispered, hugging herself harder.  "And I need clothes... you're right about that..." she shivered and rubbed her upper arms through the suit.  She'd known showers sometimes... usually when in a room paid for by one of her clients, or even owned by them.  She'd grown to like that simple comfort.  A motel would be nice, but where...<br/><br/>She blinked, and pointed as her eyes traveled over something surprisingly familiar nearby.  "Is that... is that a motel?" She asked.  She didn't know if they were similar to those she'd seen; she'd never been on this side of the wall.  That she knew, anyway.  "D'you think we could..." she trailed off.  "Are we still too close to the..." she trailed off again.  "Do we even have any money?"  She looked over at Sam.  After about three seconds she heard someone say, "You have nice hair."  It took her a few more seconds to realize she was the one that had spoken.  She blinked and brought her hand to her face, hardly believing she'd said that.<br/><br/>Shit, was she ever confused by all this.