After getting to the motel safely, Grayson let Alana go to attend to her fashion needs, or whatever girls did before this sort of thing, and passed out on top of the covers of his own bed next-door. As a third-shift guy, the sunlight meant bedtime, and the drive has exhausted Gray. Hours later, he was waking up, and in need of a good smoke. 

  Usually, he’d light up inside, avoiding the chilly weather, but in the motel, that was forbidden. Instead, he took it outside. Grayson was a stoner, if nothing else, and he had pre-rolled a few emergency joints to carry in a small baggie for later if the need arose. For now, he breathed out, pleased and punch, before catching sight of a familiar blonde head. “You’re goin’ to this thing, too?” He called to Helena, surprise lifting his voice as he beckoned for her to join him. In case Helena needed more motivation, he slid out an expertly wrapped joint for her, a welcoming smile on his face. “I think we’re going to need this.”

León was sitting by the end of the table with his newspaper, reading about a jewelry heist in New York, reading about what and how it happened, or at least the speculation of it, upon seeing the picture of the place he had a picture of how the thief did it. It’s been a while since he pulled a heist of his own and he’s getting bored, he’s getting the itch again, but too bad he can’t be reckless now. He needed more time. So instead, he played his part as the heir to the Cromwell Media, keeping up appearances, maintaining new business, and for the new company he invest on, it’s a travel app, which will be helpful later when he need to be out of the country and fool people. 

He folded his paper when he heard the door opened, “The meeting isn’t for another ten minutes,” he said, usually when people see him already standby they’re worried they’re late. He looked up without a smile, “Assuming that you’re in the right room that is,” he added, you’d be surprised how often it was for people to enter the wrong room in this building.