"This is nothing like the Grand," she remarked, trying not to think anything about the fact that he held the door open for her. I mean, she was saving his ass - he owed her. It was really the least he could do. Plus, maybe he'd become more of a gentleman...a thought occurred to her, maybe that really who he was now. Just another clone of a suit. Suddenly, the sweet gesture seemed tainted with her idea of 'evil business'.
"There may not be a mini bar, but I bet you can find a half-eaten Snickers under the bed," Veronica informed him as she turned on the lamp between the beds. There was a light overhead, but it was dim. She hated places like this. She'd spent too many times tracking cheating couples here. She knew what they did on these beds. The only reason the rich housewives didn't care was because they were too busy trying to have a decent orgasm before their pilates class ended and they had to go back to their mansion.
"I've got bad news. There's probably no room service, either." Not like that wasn't obvious. There was just a need to fill the silence. The room wasn't large enough for her to feel disconnected from Logan. Maybe if she went into the bathroom, locked the door, and stood in the shower she could feel some space. And it wasn't that she minded him for any specific reason, it was just a little awkward. The fact that she might like the arrangement was unacceptable to her Veronica-logic.
She was pretty sure he was feeling the nervous surge of adrenaline she was feeling. They were, after all, and not to make it sound dramatic - on the run from the law. Specifically the FBI. Kinda heavy stuff. You don't walk away from this without something. If you walk away at all.
She grabbed for the TV remote that had a silver chain on it, so that no one could steal it. Clicking the TV on, she realized most of the channels were static-y. Oh, come on. "If you have a secret luxurious yacht on the coast of Puerto Rico that you aren't telling me about, I will be severely pissed." Clicking around, she found the familiar black-and-white faces of Lucy and Ethel. I Love Lucy would have to do.
Sighing, she sunk onto one of the beds. And the bed sunk significantly. No support there. The bed had probably been there since the Reagan-era. "I wish I hadn't just watched that Dateline episode about germs in these kinds of places. I'm afraid I've already contracted Herpes from the TV remote."
There was no way she was going to sleep under the covers. Logan's money could have let them stay at a nice place, but only for one night - and then they'd have no money. Also, they needed to stay at out-of-the-way types of places. No one was coming here. So at least there was one good thing about the motel.