Re: Hallway: Clem, Amelia, Shane, Graham
[Dry-mouthed, tongue sticking like moldered cotton to the roof of his mouth, hungover, Shane left the fucking garage behind. He gave everyone a hug or a slap on the back or just a growl of a goodbye before taking off without looking back. He had a small bag slung over one shoulder, black against the worn, greening denim of his jacket, the one underneath the graying black leather. Copper studs stood out around blue cuffs frayed. He had a cigarette burning low, jammed between teeth, and a few days scruff shadowing upper lip and along the hollow of jaw.
Shane never looked clean. His hair was stuck up from bad sleep on a mattress as thick as a fucking cracker and he looked fucking tired because he was, but more than he wanted to lie down and go back to sleep, he wanted to get the fuck out of Dodge.
The door opened into the hallway of the hotel, and he sniffed, stepping from world to world with nonchalance, boots spanning fucking universes. He slammed the thing closed behind him.
Amelia and Clementine were seated on the threadbare carpet, Joshua nearby drawing shapes on a pad of paper. He took a drag on the cigarette.] Waiting on Graham's ass?