[of our own device]

Who: Cameron and OPEN.
Where: Cameron’s room / Reception.
When: Mid-morning.

Almost as soon as he’d reached his room last night Cameron had crawled onto the bed that had looked so inviting and drifted off to sleep. Dropped off might have been a more accurate way of describing it, such was his exhaustion, he hadn’t even taken the time to remove his clothes or visit the bathroom. As tired as he’d been he had slept longer than usual, deeper than usual as well, and when he woke up he felt disoriented, confused, not knowing where he was or why. His heart had started beating faster and his fingers had started to tingle as anxiety had settled in, his breathing growing shallow until he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, shaky as they were. That was when he’d seen his bag -- map and all, sitting atop it -- dropped beside the door to what he could only imagine was the bathroom. A hotel bathroom.

His car had broken down. He’d walked for what had felt like hours, found this place, requested a room for the night. Cameron swallowed against the dryness of his throat and lifted his hands to press the heels into his closed eyes to try and rub the sleep from them before rising from the edge of the mattress and moving to the bathroom. Apparently he’d had enough presence of mind to remove his jacket before collapsing on his bed but his shirt hadn’t escaped unscathed and it was easy to see the wrinkles and folds in the fabric where he’d rested his weight on them for long periods of time. Cameron huffed out a sigh, mentally berating himself for the lapse in judgement before looking around for a clock. By the bed, of course, and when he stuck his head out the door to look at it he saw it was gone nine, long past time he checked out and got back on the road by any means necessary. Maybe he could get a tow truck to come and collect his wounded old car, hopefully he could catch a ride to the next pocket of civilisation, find a phone and call ahead to let the college know he was still interested.

There was no time to make himself presentable, he’d slept too long as it was, and as he grabbed up his jacket and bag, draining what little was left in the bottle of water the receptionist had given him last night before heading out the door and back down to the lobby. When he got into the elevator his hands were still shaking, the pins-and-needles of anxiety still present in his fingers, creeping through his hands and towards his wrists. He let out a hurried breath to try and calm himself, a minimal effort that was ultimately wasted, it did nothing to help and when the doors opened and let him out on the ground floor he made a beeline for the reception desk, looking around for the member of staff on duty as he did so. “Hello?” he called out after several seconds in which he saw no sign of movement. There was no bell or buzzer in sight, and even if there had been he might not have pressed one. Cameron had always thought of bells and buzzers and pushy, and that was the last thing he wanted to be.