<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/081Odes.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>Marc Morales (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=324741.msg15581723#msg15581723)<br/><strong>Date and Time:</strong>Sunday, July 19th, ~9:30am<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Hotel lobby > third floor room > halls/elevator/lobby<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Open/Close:</strong>If ya wanna!<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Sneakers, jeans, a dark green tee, and an analog wristwatch<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong><del>Mild paranoia</del>Security consciousness, and getting a feel for Marc<br/><br/>"Good morning!" The clerk's voice was like chimes on a breeze. She was blonde, maybe late twenties. With the way the desk concealed most of her, she might as well have been a floating bust, complete with a white smile framed by pink lips. Blue eyes glimmered under the glow of the lighting. "Checking in?"<br/><br/>Marc returned the smile. He liked to think it met his eyes well enough. "Yes." From his jeans pocket he produced the necessary papers and cards. She accepted them with her left hand. It wore a ring. A thin, red line, a healing cut, contrasted against the pale skin of her middle finger and curved along the bone. At least if she flipped someone off, the sky blue nail polish would make it pretty.<br/><br/>All of the information would be there, either printed or written down, so there was no reason to talk. Upon entering the lobby, he had counted four other individuals: a younger couple leaving the hotel with their suitcases, and a pair of women in the lounge--friends? Lovers? They made light conversation, by the sound of it. An elevator dinged.<br/><br/>At last, the clerk handed back his things, plus a key card. "Enjoy your stay!"<br/><br/>Marc turned for the elevators.<br/><br/>His room was on the third floor, like requested. It felt strange when he entered. He felt naked. Normally he had his piece with him, but, this time, his stay in a hotel wasn't for business. He wouldn't say it was for leisure, either. That remained to be seen. His parents were still kicking. He could have saved a few hundred dollars, but he was a big kid. A man needed his space. He'd have to pay them a visit later. It had been five years, and they weren't getting younger.<br/><br/>As soon as his bags were set beside the bed, the routine began. He checked the shower. He checked the closet. He glossed over the room for cameras. The window overlooked downtown, and suddenly he was a drone in the sky, an observer to the veins that pumped the life through West Harper. Having lived here for about nineteen years total, a map had long since been embedded into his skull. He could rattle off directions to the police department, the fire station, the nearest hospital, even estimate the time it would take personnel to arrive in decent traffic.<br/><br/>These were all vital measures. He wouldn't forfeit them because of a little vacation.<br/><br/>The remote lied in front of the TV. He turned it on and switched the station to CNN. The volume bar on the screen filled until he figured it loud enough to be heard from the door, which he strode toward as soon as he extracted something from his duffel: a sign (https://i.etsystatic.com/18908612/r/il/deb2bb/2248263504/il_794xN.2248263504_s3ku.jpg). He hung it on the knob once he stepped out in the hall. He walked its length, taking note of the emergency exits.<br/><br/>Yes, he would enjoy his stay.<br/><br/>Now maybe he'd wander the streets.