13

13

Jason and I briefly debate whether it’s better to take Chuck’s car for speed or go back to the motel on foot. We opt to split the difference and drive his car back to the diner and then walk back to the motel. That way we can get back relatively fast but still have some more time if the Marching Tides track down his car before they find our motel.

Fortunately, Jason knows his way around Vegas far better than I do because I probably would not have been able to find my way back to the diner from the warehouse.

Fifteen minutes later, we are back at our motel. As we pass the registration desk on our way to the room, I notice a pimply, twenty-something doofus wearing what looks to be at least $200 sunglasses, even though the sun has long past set by this point, trying to haggle with the desk clerk.

“Look man, I know you’ve gotta have some rooms available,” the doofus snaps. “Hotels always have extra rooms on hold in case of emergency.”

The clerk responds with a resigned s