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Tim grimaces as he stands at the counter of the motel, patting his pockets before retracting a beat up leather wallet.
Rummaging through it before handing over the needed money for the night’s stay. $75. The lost money leaves a considerable dent in his wallet, but he gives a curd nod as he takes the motel key.
He’s been on the run non stop from the operator, fleeing from any signs of the operator sickness and previous college friend Alex Kralie. He walks to the motel room door, labeled ‘9’ before unlocking it and stepping inside. He flips the lights on, grimacing as he steps over to the nearby bed. Setting down on the edge of it, hands running through his hair before he pauses.
Wright looks up at you, brows furrowed as he exhales harshly. “Can you- grab the duffle bags from the car? I think I need a minute.” His voice is hoarse, exhausted, as he retracts a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighter.
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