<strong>Taylor and Allison</strong><br/>You open the door to your room, to see Edwin, Blake, and Roger standing in front of the door to room 213, where Roger is moving in.  You can see the full extent of the damage, feel a rush of chill from the winter wind that blows through the open window.<br/><br/><strong>Blake</strong><br/>Even as you move to control the situation, your coldly analytical mind is assessing the details.  First; the glass of the window is broken<em>outwards</em>suggesting someone left the room by that method.  You also realize that, while the room is in disarray, it has not been searched.  The bed is made, the drawers are all neatly closed.  There is a thin suitcase with an airline tag on the luggage stand.<br/><br/><strong>Roger</strong><br/>Your sight clouds with swirls of red and orange.  Violence, terrible, brutal violence, was done in this room, and it has left an empathic impression that almost nauseates you from its callow, vicious abandon.  You are able to pick out a faint trail of something - hope? - that leads you to look under the bed, where you see a briefcase, half-hidden.<br/><br/><strong>Beck</strong><br/>From the other end of the hall, you catch sight out of the corner of your eye another guest of the hotel.  Mamie something or another, a heavy-set woman in her 40s.  She appears to have a touch of insomnia, and it walking about the halls in her pajamas and slippers.  She sees you, raises a hand in greeting, then tilts her head as she notices the gathering at the end of the hall.