There are a lot of things going on in my mind at one time. At most, only two things run through my mind in a given day, or even when I'm doing a task. What I'm doing now, and where it's going to go. For example, if I'm working on something for someone, I get an idea in my head. I start where I need to start and head towards the end goal. This scenario was out of my element. Nothing was being planned by me, because my ***** of a grandmother got a wild hair up her butt about her precious 'baby' being dead. I doubt she even thought about my mom two nights ago.
"We'll both visit the guy, when the time is right. But, doing some recon might be good. You're an unfamiliar face in a small town. Might be best if you see him after I get the information from the cop shop. Find out where he hangs out, and where he lives. Then, we'll take it from there." this part of the trip, I'm in control of, so I figure it's best to start there. "As for the funeral home." I look into her eyes and narrow my own a little bit. "It seems someone else is taking care of that part." I say with a shrug of my shoulders. Did it matter in the end who did it? It would be done? It didn't, but at the same time, it did. Only because it was all for show. If it was genuine, I wouldn't be thinking twice about my grandmother burying my mom however she wanted to bury her.
"The cop shop first tomorrow. We can go together, if you want. Two sets of ears are better than one." I admit, then, reach out for one of her hands and graze the top of her knuckles with my thumb. "the funeral home won't be open now. I can call in the morning, and then we can deal with that after we get some more details about things." I wanted to get my mom her own set of something nice to put on her casket. She ******* deserved it. I didn't want to be tied to anything my grandparent's did. "And it'll happen when I say. **** them." I let it be known that while my grandmother can do the frivolous details of the appearance of things, she wasn't running the entire show. I move into Dom's space and hook an arm around the back of her neck, an pull her into me. Our foreheads connect, our eyes still on the other as my tone hits barely above a whisper. "I want to be clear. I don't care if this entire city has to burn to the ******* ground in order to see justice served. I hope you brought marshmallows, just in case."
I push back from her and point to a motel 8. "The only motel and hotel in town. It's not glamorous, but it'll suit our needs. For now." I have keys to my mom's place, but it's no where I want to go for now. There's no hurry anyways. I'm positive no one has been in there, with the exception of cops. Maybe. Even then, since she wasn't the one who had done anything wrong or taken part in a crime outside of being the victim, it's doubtful anything has been touched in her apartment.
I don't need...anything (Dom)
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Roderic
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Dominique
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Re: I don't need...anything (Dom)
Dominique had no issue with his willingness to burn a town down she had only recently arrived to. It wasn't like she was invested in saving it or those that resided within it. It was Ric currently calling the steps that they would take so it was a given. Despite the fact that he was far from being the most emotional male on the planet he did have a mother a few short weeks back that he cared about and now she was prematurely gone. It was no thanks to the acceptable influences of natural life expectancy over the period of time taking effect, illness or fatal accident that most can generally can deal with. Those scenarios didn’t pack the punch that a violent end did. Not that it made it any easier if a loved one on the job fell into the silo full of unstable grain or just happened to leave the curb too soon and managed to get run over by the city bus. She couldn’t imagine it really. But there they stood forehead to forehead and Ric was feeling it. To know that someone got their hands on his mother and it resulted in murder was a no brainer. It was in no way going to have any other outcome than some serious serving of consequences, bloodletting, revenge and death. A city wide fire would be the least of the worries of the one responsible once Ric got a hold of them.
“I will empty every store shelf if I have to. Mind if I toss in the suggestion of graham crackers and a Hershey Bar or two?”
It had actually been what she survived on during her days and nights living in a tent on the outskirts of Harper Rock. S’mores. Which, of course, had not a damn thing to do with arson, mass casualties and wiping a town off the world map. Except fire. No marshmallow was done in a microwave like it was over an open flame. Didn’t need to be in the scouts to find that out. It wasn’t exactly her first choice of dealing with a issue. But fire did hold the potential to eliminate the evidence if enough was used and the heat was high enough.
“I think going to the station together would be a good idea.” She gave it some thought as he stepped back. She figured the warrants on her were still outstanding but no one had attempted to call her on them in Canada so perhaps they were on to bigger threats than a former high end car thief who delivered insane wheels across state lines more than was considered tolerable let alone legal. Worst case scenarios go into play would mean having Ric on back up and vice versa couldn't hurt anything. “Then I can pay a visit.”
The shadow hiked up the carry on bags still dangling from her petite shoulder. HOPE patted the outside of the bulk and nodded in the direction it appears that they would be heading to first. The Motel 8 was hardly something to feel put out by as a place to hole up in. They had stayed in far less accommodating places when they would be forced to rest for the typical recharging that the fang baring dark side members generally required. Sewers, caves. Hell, some even lived in trees. Yep, big-***-can’t-believe-it-unless-you-see-it-for-yourself...trees. Cubby in all his grief likely forgot the fact they took up permanent residence in an abandoned prison they took ownership of called Belle Reve. That gave her some ideas instantly. There were plenty of cells open. Offenders were transported all the time to serve out their sentences elsewhere far from where their crimes were committed. Justice would be served.
“I will empty every store shelf if I have to. Mind if I toss in the suggestion of graham crackers and a Hershey Bar or two?”
It had actually been what she survived on during her days and nights living in a tent on the outskirts of Harper Rock. S’mores. Which, of course, had not a damn thing to do with arson, mass casualties and wiping a town off the world map. Except fire. No marshmallow was done in a microwave like it was over an open flame. Didn’t need to be in the scouts to find that out. It wasn’t exactly her first choice of dealing with a issue. But fire did hold the potential to eliminate the evidence if enough was used and the heat was high enough.
“I think going to the station together would be a good idea.” She gave it some thought as he stepped back. She figured the warrants on her were still outstanding but no one had attempted to call her on them in Canada so perhaps they were on to bigger threats than a former high end car thief who delivered insane wheels across state lines more than was considered tolerable let alone legal. Worst case scenarios go into play would mean having Ric on back up and vice versa couldn't hurt anything. “Then I can pay a visit.”
The shadow hiked up the carry on bags still dangling from her petite shoulder. HOPE patted the outside of the bulk and nodded in the direction it appears that they would be heading to first. The Motel 8 was hardly something to feel put out by as a place to hole up in. They had stayed in far less accommodating places when they would be forced to rest for the typical recharging that the fang baring dark side members generally required. Sewers, caves. Hell, some even lived in trees. Yep, big-***-can’t-believe-it-unless-you-see-it-for-yourself...trees. Cubby in all his grief likely forgot the fact they took up permanent residence in an abandoned prison they took ownership of called Belle Reve. That gave her some ideas instantly. There were plenty of cells open. Offenders were transported all the time to serve out their sentences elsewhere far from where their crimes were committed. Justice would be served.
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Roderic
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Re: I don't need...anything (Dom)
Dom and I don't need a lot of glitz and glamour, but the hotel wouldn't be a place where we could carry out justice on behalf of my mom. Thankfully, we both own our own businesses, so we could take more than three or four days to get things right. Can't leave a trail behind, or at least not one that pointed to her or I. Even if we didn't live in the United States, neither of us really wanted or needed more suspicion drawn on us. Who knew when we might need to come back to our southern neighbor.
The motel 8 sign flickers occasionally and there's a loud buzzing noise that accompanies it. The small pool had been sectioned off by a metal fence, and on the door a 'closed' sign with a chair and padlock was placed. I shake my head, thinking how easy it would be for someone to go swimming here, regardless of the sign, chain and lock. We might have to show them that at some point.
'Diiiiiiing.' I ring the ball in the early nineties themed hotel main area. The lack of modern decor and anemeities lets me know that this hotel is probably just staying afloat in the small city. "Need a room? Got a little of every kind." An older male, probably in his late fifties pops up from a room behind the counter where I can hear a television show of some wild west theme. "One queen bed is 79.99 a night. Two Queen beds is 84.99. A king is 90.99, and a king with a pull out couch is 94.99." He starts to sell what sort of rooms they have, and I glance at Dom. We obviously don't need two sleeping arrangements, so I shrug. "Just a king. Maybe near a corner. If you've got one at an end." And end room means less neighbors and usually less traffic.
"We do. Breakfast isn't great, but it's free. Toast, coffee, eggs and apples and fruit. Sometimes the wife splurges for raisin toast. That's my favorite. Been married thirty seven years." I nod, then stare. I don't give a **** about breakfast and I sure don't give a **** about the guy behind the counter or his wife. "If we could get the key." I remind the guy, who nods his head and fumbles for a real key. "Got you set up with-"
I cut him off. "We can find it." I grab the key off the counter, pull out a credit card and hand it over to the guy. He runs it through a machine reader of sorts attached to the computer near a wall of windows, before he hands it back. "Breakfast starts at six a.m. until ten. If you want to know where to have the best burger at..." "Thanks." I say, stuffing the card back in my wallet and moving away from the counter. Everyone in this town was probably a special shade of color in a crayon box.
I'm a few feet from the counter, when I stop and wait for Dom. "The retirement age should be lowered for some people. Maybe everyone." I mutter sarcastically, as I head towards the end of the hallway. We're at the door of the hotel room, when I freeze. I stare at number on the door. Room 11. I blink and look down at the key he gave me. Room 11. ****. My hands clench the key and plastic numbered tag, as my throat tightens and suddenly, I can't breath. Logically, that makes no sense, but it's how I feel. Drained of energy. Unable to take another step, backwards or forwards. I feel sweat on my palms and the back of my neck. I open my mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. Then, the key drops to the ground, as I grunt and shake my head. "Nope." I say dryly as finally, the urge to move overcomes me and I turn back towards the hallway, nearly knocking Dominque out of my way as I get the hell away from room 11.
The motel 8 sign flickers occasionally and there's a loud buzzing noise that accompanies it. The small pool had been sectioned off by a metal fence, and on the door a 'closed' sign with a chair and padlock was placed. I shake my head, thinking how easy it would be for someone to go swimming here, regardless of the sign, chain and lock. We might have to show them that at some point.
'Diiiiiiing.' I ring the ball in the early nineties themed hotel main area. The lack of modern decor and anemeities lets me know that this hotel is probably just staying afloat in the small city. "Need a room? Got a little of every kind." An older male, probably in his late fifties pops up from a room behind the counter where I can hear a television show of some wild west theme. "One queen bed is 79.99 a night. Two Queen beds is 84.99. A king is 90.99, and a king with a pull out couch is 94.99." He starts to sell what sort of rooms they have, and I glance at Dom. We obviously don't need two sleeping arrangements, so I shrug. "Just a king. Maybe near a corner. If you've got one at an end." And end room means less neighbors and usually less traffic.
"We do. Breakfast isn't great, but it's free. Toast, coffee, eggs and apples and fruit. Sometimes the wife splurges for raisin toast. That's my favorite. Been married thirty seven years." I nod, then stare. I don't give a **** about breakfast and I sure don't give a **** about the guy behind the counter or his wife. "If we could get the key." I remind the guy, who nods his head and fumbles for a real key. "Got you set up with-"
I cut him off. "We can find it." I grab the key off the counter, pull out a credit card and hand it over to the guy. He runs it through a machine reader of sorts attached to the computer near a wall of windows, before he hands it back. "Breakfast starts at six a.m. until ten. If you want to know where to have the best burger at..." "Thanks." I say, stuffing the card back in my wallet and moving away from the counter. Everyone in this town was probably a special shade of color in a crayon box.
I'm a few feet from the counter, when I stop and wait for Dom. "The retirement age should be lowered for some people. Maybe everyone." I mutter sarcastically, as I head towards the end of the hallway. We're at the door of the hotel room, when I freeze. I stare at number on the door. Room 11. I blink and look down at the key he gave me. Room 11. ****. My hands clench the key and plastic numbered tag, as my throat tightens and suddenly, I can't breath. Logically, that makes no sense, but it's how I feel. Drained of energy. Unable to take another step, backwards or forwards. I feel sweat on my palms and the back of my neck. I open my mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. Then, the key drops to the ground, as I grunt and shake my head. "Nope." I say dryly as finally, the urge to move overcomes me and I turn back towards the hallway, nearly knocking Dominque out of my way as I get the hell away from room 11.
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Dominique
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Re: I don't need...anything (Dom)
Sometimes it came down to a matter of perspective that made something tolerable or survivable. Dominique’s view on the reaction Ric was having had her figuring it could be a couple things at best. None of it was the typical scenarios easy to overcome that would come about with a supportive and encouraging pat on the back and a simple , ‘Hang in there, buddy.’ Especially with the way he ditched the key to the door and nearly left his boot prints on her back taking off for hell knows where.
The shadow doubted it was about being in some roadside halfway house for the weary and limited funds traveler as it was about the uneven number on the door in front of her. Eleven was odd but it could be manipulated just by looking at it in a different way. Two lines both set in the same direction. Nice and clean. Soon she saw a pattern. The value behind it gone. But Ric really wasn’t in any mood be to asked to see things differently than he had. The information was already processed and catalogued. She didn’t have time to pull out a comfy therapy chaise from her back pocket and a notepad to transcribe her findings on. Instead she leaned over and managed not to drop the items she was packed down with while claiming the key from the carpeted floor beneath her.
“I put your bags by the bed. I will grab some ice.” The door just behind her was open and a middle aged guy with an Orkin business logo on a gray polo style shirt caught her attention. He nodded to her while holding the key to the door he was attempting to exit. “Howdy.”
“Got a question for you.” Dominique was a business person who ran things successfully with the whole direct and to the point approach. “How much would it take for you to bypass the front desk getting involved and do a room swap?” She peeked around his shoulder and the confirmation was there in all bags appearing packed and untouched at the foot of the bed. The sounds of movement in the room were followed by the television coming to life. “I got a bit of an issue going on with the number eleven. I am willing to put enough towards getting through this by avoiding it.”
“Well, now that is a bit difficult to do since my credit card is on the room. You can burn the room down and I get the bill. However…” He pulled the door closed and stepped away giving them the needed space to carry on the conversation while he headed for the ice machine down the hall. “We did have a hold on room two down at the other end of the opposite side that we just gave up. Kinda creepy. Was the room some guy murdered a couple people in. It was recently renovated and painted. The smell sort of upset my business partner’s allergies and I just got a weird vibe in it. If you check in at the desk I am sure you can grab it if that sort of thing doesn’t bother you.”
“Thanks.” Dominique left the guy behind at the ice station and made her way back to the desk.
Fifteen minutes later she found Ric and produced a key to room two. She didn’t bring up the other room and focused on the one they now had access to. A wiggle of the proof in her hands hopefully would be enough to resolve the mishap and put it behind them. They had more pressing issues coming up to deal with and a room to get into and unload what she had been hauling around on her shoulders.
“Think this room will work out better.” She handed him the key and adjusted what she was carrying. “Other end of the building and at the end of the hall.” She stepped backwards to make sure he was coming along. “Sound good?”
The shadow doubted it was about being in some roadside halfway house for the weary and limited funds traveler as it was about the uneven number on the door in front of her. Eleven was odd but it could be manipulated just by looking at it in a different way. Two lines both set in the same direction. Nice and clean. Soon she saw a pattern. The value behind it gone. But Ric really wasn’t in any mood be to asked to see things differently than he had. The information was already processed and catalogued. She didn’t have time to pull out a comfy therapy chaise from her back pocket and a notepad to transcribe her findings on. Instead she leaned over and managed not to drop the items she was packed down with while claiming the key from the carpeted floor beneath her.
“I put your bags by the bed. I will grab some ice.” The door just behind her was open and a middle aged guy with an Orkin business logo on a gray polo style shirt caught her attention. He nodded to her while holding the key to the door he was attempting to exit. “Howdy.”
“Got a question for you.” Dominique was a business person who ran things successfully with the whole direct and to the point approach. “How much would it take for you to bypass the front desk getting involved and do a room swap?” She peeked around his shoulder and the confirmation was there in all bags appearing packed and untouched at the foot of the bed. The sounds of movement in the room were followed by the television coming to life. “I got a bit of an issue going on with the number eleven. I am willing to put enough towards getting through this by avoiding it.”
“Well, now that is a bit difficult to do since my credit card is on the room. You can burn the room down and I get the bill. However…” He pulled the door closed and stepped away giving them the needed space to carry on the conversation while he headed for the ice machine down the hall. “We did have a hold on room two down at the other end of the opposite side that we just gave up. Kinda creepy. Was the room some guy murdered a couple people in. It was recently renovated and painted. The smell sort of upset my business partner’s allergies and I just got a weird vibe in it. If you check in at the desk I am sure you can grab it if that sort of thing doesn’t bother you.”
“Thanks.” Dominique left the guy behind at the ice station and made her way back to the desk.
Fifteen minutes later she found Ric and produced a key to room two. She didn’t bring up the other room and focused on the one they now had access to. A wiggle of the proof in her hands hopefully would be enough to resolve the mishap and put it behind them. They had more pressing issues coming up to deal with and a room to get into and unload what she had been hauling around on her shoulders.
“Think this room will work out better.” She handed him the key and adjusted what she was carrying. “Other end of the building and at the end of the hall.” She stepped backwards to make sure he was coming along. “Sound good?”