( After the events of the last motel the supernatural gang of Beacon Hills stayed at, it'll come as a shock that they are, once again, at a motel. Granted, this one isn't known for its suicide numbers, so that's already refreshing.
They needed to get away after Allison's passing. Being in town felt too much like living in a city-sized graveyard, the ghosts of their friends following them wherever they went, so Lydia suggested that they get out of there for a while. Scott and Stiles were keen on the idea, and the next day they had packed their bags for a long weekend getaway.
The mountains felt like a bad choice β whatever lurked in the trees is something that none of them felt up for, so instead, they went south. And then east. Where they wound up was a small town on the border of California and Mexico (while still in the United States, of course, as none of them felt like going over the border), where it was hot, but not too dry, and if they wanted to go to a beach, it was only an hour's drive.
To make a long story short, they wound up finding a motel that was within their price range for Lydia to have her own bedroom, as there's no way in Hell she was rooming with both Scott and Stiles. Boys are heathens and she would rather chew her own leg off before sleeping in the same room as them.
She's lugged her bag up the stairs to the room she was assigned and locks the door behind her as she steps inside, bag set on a chair by the door. All but throwing herself on the bed, she rolls over to open the bedside dresser's drawer, hoping to find a remote to attempt to find something to watch while the boys are out grabbing food for the three of them. Instead, she finds a wallet and a handgun sitting next to the token bible; her immediate reaction is to slam the drawer shut again, eyes wide.
And in a moment that leaves her heart in the pit of her stomach, somebody then steps out of the bathroom. Lydia stands abruptly, stumbling over her feet back towards the door. )
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They needed to get away after Allison's passing. Being in town felt too much like living in a city-sized graveyard, the ghosts of their friends following them wherever they went, so Lydia suggested that they get out of there for a while. Scott and Stiles were keen on the idea, and the next day they had packed their bags for a long weekend getaway.
The mountains felt like a bad choice β whatever lurked in the trees is something that none of them felt up for, so instead, they went south. And then east. Where they wound up was a small town on the border of California and Mexico (while still in the United States, of course, as none of them felt like going over the border), where it was hot, but not too dry, and if they wanted to go to a beach, it was only an hour's drive.
To make a long story short, they wound up finding a motel that was within their price range for Lydia to have her own bedroom, as there's no way in Hell she was rooming with both Scott and Stiles. Boys are heathens and she would rather chew her own leg off before sleeping in the same room as them.
She's lugged her bag up the stairs to the room she was assigned and locks the door behind her as she steps inside, bag set on a chair by the door. All but throwing herself on the bed, she rolls over to open the bedside dresser's drawer, hoping to find a remote to attempt to find something to watch while the boys are out grabbing food for the three of them. Instead, she finds a wallet and a handgun sitting next to the token bible; her immediate reaction is to slam the drawer shut again, eyes wide.
And in a moment that leaves her heart in the pit of her stomach, somebody then steps out of the bathroom. Lydia stands abruptly, stumbling over her feet back towards the door. )
... I think they gave me the wrong room key.