They walked toward the entrance, the neon sign buzzing faintly overhead. Liam pushed open the glass door, and they stepped inside.
The lobby was small, barely ten feet across, with yellowed wallpaper and a stained carpet that had probably been beige twenty years ago. A middle-aged man sat behind the front desk, half-asleep, a small TV playing some late-night talk show in the corner.
He looked up as they entered, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Elena in her red dress.
"Need a room?" the man asked, his voice rough.
"Yeah," Liam said. "One night."
The man slid a key across the counter. "Sixty bucks. Room 12."
Liam pulled out his wallet and handed over three twenties. The man pocketed the cash without counting it and went back to his TV.
Liam picked up the key and turned to Elena, grinning. "After you."
