Why in God’s name was this place so big? Quint felt like he had been walking around for some time, awkwardly holding a towel, looking for the showers in the Brothel. He had asked three people, and they all sent him to a different place…he was beginning to think that they had done it on purpose. But, still…he wanted a shower, feeling gross and greasy from the day before. So when he saw the other, he walked up to em. “Pardon, uh….ya wouldn’t happen to know where the showers are would ya?” He asked, that thick warm Southern accent sounding shy and sheepish.
Alex was wary of the brothel, he didn’t explore too much of it, afraid of what he would fine and the last thing he wanted to walk in on was some sick mixture of pain and pleasure, or death and pleasure as that is all the more possible in Hell. He kept to the bar, the more vanilla of the two sex rooms, not to have sex, but to check it out. But as he was walking the halls, Alex was stopped by an older male, with a southern accent, quite different from Alex’s English one, “ I think I saw one on the sixth floor, to clean off after...well,” He motioned the other to follow him, heading to the elevator, “ I’m Alex by the way...I hope everything is good for you here...I know that it’s not the best for everyone.”
















