After the...encounter--because yes, that's definitely what he's going to call it for now--with Allison in the elevator, Scott heads back to his room in a pretty good mood. Initially, at least. Because the endorphins in his brain were still sending the pleasure signals out.
But eventually...when the rapid signals in his brain screaming for pleasure and feeling good started quieting down and reality started setting in, panic and guilt started settling in. What was that? What was he doing? She doesn't even know who he is. She has memories that don't match his at all and... he'd taken advantage of that for selfish reasons.
Although, maybe not completely selfish, he hadn't exactly heard any complaints from her...
He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He can't do this to her. He can't. He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. He lingers in the doorway once he's in his room before going to grab a change of clothes and heading into the shower.
He tries to keep himself busy, but nothing is holding his attention. He can't get Allison or the situation as a whole off his mind. He doesn't know what to do about it the next time he sees her. And he will. No matter how big the hotel is, it's not that big. He can't avoid her forever.
Scott sighs and grabs a T-shirt to put on over his head before walking out of his room and heading upstairs to Lydia's room. He stops outside #217 and shoves his hands in his pockets with a soft sigh. He has no idea what he's doing, and there's no one better suited for this type of advice than Lydia.