Slendie RP, Anyone?

'He's my adoptive father,' whispered Louis, his eyes closing briefly before he managed to shake himself awake again. 'That sounds like a plan.'

"You need to give me directions, though. Don't know this town..." He slows down and attempts to get to the town centre.

Louis stared blearily as familiar buildings crawled past the window, trying to get his bearings. 'I'm afraid we've only lived near here a few years.' He frowned, concentrating. 'First left, then second right.'

"Uh huh" He performs those turns quickly and effeciently.

Louis pressed a finger to the window as a motel swept into view. 'There,' he muttered, a little uneasily.

John pulled over and stopped. He killed the engine and handed the keys back to Louis. "I go up first. You follow." He got out of the car and walked up to the motel.

Louis clutched the keys nervously, watching John walk confidently across the car park as he unclipped his seatbelt, ready to follow.

At the door of the motel, he looked through the entrance, to see who's behind the desk. He squinted to get a better look from the brightness inside.

Louis peered through the misty glass at John, his eyes itching to close just for a few seconds.

John waved at Louis, mouthing something inaudible.

Louis frowned, hooking his finger around the door's latch, popping the Bentley's door open and gracefully stepping out. He hurried towards John, locking the car as he went. If you just think, I can hear, he thought, directing it at John impatiently.

Wanted us to look normal. John walked up to the door and turned to look at Louis to wait for him to reach him.

Louis hurried up, joining John at the front doors with a small smile. Sorry, my back doesn't allow for too much activity.

Don't worry. He holds the door open for Louis. He piles in after him.

Louis waited for John to join him at the main desk, raising an eyebrow slightly. You organise it, I've never been in a motel before. He gave the receptionist a bright smile.

John walked up to the front desk. "Yeah, we'd like a room with two beds." He said casualy, he dug into his pocket for a twenty dollar bill.

Louis leaned against the desk, his elbows supporting his weight as he took in the proceedings.

The old man at the desk looked up at John and took him in. "Ain't I seen you before?" The old man asks acussingly. "I dunno, have you?" John retorted with his eyes narrowed slightly. "What?" The old man snapped. "You got a room, room 14. Don't know why you didn't come back for it." The old man eyed Louis suspicously, accusing thought of homosexuals and drugs crossed the old man's mind, he saw it disgustedly. John struggled to find words, he looked back at Louis, his mouth was hanging open. I don't have the key for it...

Louis raised an eyebrow slowly, his exhaustion was too much to deal with judgemental motel receptionists. 'We did ask for two beds,' he murmured, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

Louis glanced at John, mouth parting slightly as he thought. I thought there was a key in that old lockbox of yours?

"You already got a room." The old man collected the mucus from the back of his throat with a throaty, phlegmy snort. "Do you have a spare key to the room I got?" John croaked. "Yeah, I do. It'll cost ya twenty dollars." The old man sneered. "Okay..." John snapped and gave the old man the bill and the old man gave him the key. "C'mon, Lou." John murmmured.

Louis felt like reaching over the desk and snapping the old man's neck, but instead he settled with a glare; his irises darkening as his eyebrows angled sharply downwards. 'Manners would be nice,' he hissed, preparing to follow John.

(Miss ALL of the posts!)

Hannah read the note again, blinking slowly. 'I'm but a thought away'? This meant that she could contact him, see how he was faring. A backwards glance to the small pool of the blood on her kitchen table sent shivers down her spine. Yes, she definitely wanted to know how he was faring.

She shut her eyes, thinking as loudly as she could. "Louis?"

Louis relaxed as he heard Hannah's voice. Yes?, he asked, his mental tone one pure musical note. So, she had found his note.

"How is.. How're you feeling?" Opening her eyes, she headed back to her 'nest', settling down and getting comfortable. Well, at least she knew he was alive.

Better, thank you, he responded. Worn out though, but I suppose it's only expected. His tone became softer. How are you faring?