Scott | Allison Spam
She glances at him when he speaks, and sees him sway on his feet. Before she can stop herself, she's shoved her way under his arm to hold him steady, supporting his weight as best she can.
"I've got you." she breathes, an arm clamped around his waist as she steers him towards the stairwell exit that leads into the lobby. She feels sick, suddenly, overcome with a crippling fear that feels familiar to her.
The lobby is warm and inviting as she leads Scott towards the fire...but for some reason, she can smell dried urine, wet tile, and mildew. Sitting him down in one of the plush chairs in front of the fire, sinking to her knees in front of him, when she reaches up to touch his ribs...
For a second, she swears she can feel something black, slick, and noxious under her fingers, see it staining his shirt...smell it, as readily as she can smell the rest stop bathroom--