The shirt did smell like old people, and Boyd would have laughed if it wasn't for the horrible scars. She dug her fingernails into her palms, but she didn't say anything. Her gaze slid over to Hannah's sadly, but she brightened by the time she looked back at Nick. "Quit complainin,'" she told him, but her tone was utterly fond and caring.
She opened the door, looked both ways and motioned for them to follow her down the hall. As she moved, she dialed for a cab, and she prayed no one saw them and thought they looked like they were doing what they were doing.