#hcark

Dusk has come and gone. The night sky around Ulysses twinkled in the twilight as he stood outside of the On The Road motel. He’s certain he can smell the old carpets from the lot outside. When his shoulder itches, his first thought is that it’s bedbugs - which he wouldn’t put past the place to have. Uly wouldn’t push himself to spend the night here, not even for a quick romp with some arm candy. No, Ulysses is there for business, and business alone. Someone in the audience of the Poulailler had pulled him aside a few nights prior - their business had been robbed, and could he make an example out of the thief to ensure it wouldn’t happen again? Of course Ulysses didn’t mind - so long as the check was big enough. And what better place to let a man scream for an hour or so than a seedy motel that most guests were too scared of to check in? It adds to the ambiance. If anything, he was just adding to the atmosphere.

Without a second thought, Ulysses goes directly into the lobby - and smiles at Jebidiah behind the counter who, contrary to Jebidiah’s belief, Uly considers a close friend. “Well, hello there beautiful. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?” He flashes a smile, knowing Jeb’s disdain for it. “I’m looking for a room. Just for the night. Preferably one that doesn’t have any guests in the rooms on either side of it. I’ve got my lady outside, see,” While he nods outside the door, Ulysses’ lady is truthfully a man with ropes bound at his ankles. “And I don’t think anyone wants to hear what we’re about to do in there. She’s a bit shy, you see. I don’t think she wants an audience. Unless you’ve changed your mind and decided you’re interested -- because I’m sure I could change her mind on the matter.

Sara slept through three alarms. And then blatantly ignored the fourth. She’d busied herself with eating cereal from her kitchen counter. A wrestling program from several nights prior plays on phone. It’s the fifth alarm that kicks her into action. When they turn to look at their microwave, they see precisely how late they are. Sara curses under her breath. They hurry to pull on their worn jacket and pull their hair back. The soles of their shoes are worn thin, but she cares about none of this in the moment.

By the time she pushes through the door, the rest of their bandmates have been in a deep brainstorming station for new songs. Sara doesn’t think much of it, and rolls their eyes at the mention of her being late.

“I showed up. What does it matter?”

And then, the dark hair from across the table catches their eye. Sara has never been the type to care much for manners or polite behavior. Where someone else might tear their eyes away, Sara becomes fixated.

Underneath her, the chair falls as Sara pushes herself back. “Sonia? Fuck. What the fuck?” They scowl. “What the hell is this? What...what are you doing here?”