"Yours." Johnny shook his head, seriously at first, and then laughing. "I can't stand being in that room, it feels ridiculous. It's easier to handle if I don't have to think that it's mine."
His room had a bamboo fan on the ceiling. He assumed they all did. But it was horrible. Hunters would never have chosen a place like this to stay in. All of the rooms, all of the ... well, all of it, was too nice. Too clean.
Too expensive.
Johnny took the bottles from her, carrying all four by the necks in one hand. With his other, he claimed hers, giving it a brief squeeze and reveling in the feeling of her. That he could do this at all. He felt the instinctual tugging of some reservations still, but his mind and his heart knew that it was right.