Rhiannon Lee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rhiannon_lee) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
birthright_rpg2013-09-01 01:34 am
rhiannon_lee) wrote in birthright_rpg2013-09-01 01:34 am
Bad Digs
“Fuck!”
Rhiannon slammed the door and hauled her possessions onto her shoulder. A backpack and duffel: that was all she owned in the world, other than her beat-up, ‘new to her’ car… which wouldn’t start. Probably the battery. No telling when it had been replaced and such extreme temperatures were notoriously bad for them. It was an easy fix, but she wanted out of the motel now and she was prepared to leave the car behind – at last temporarily – to accomplish it because the seedy, perspiring manager of the Kay told her that an older woman asked about her. Sure, he’d be happy to tell Rhiannon the other details of the conversation, for a price.
Well, screw that and screw him. She’d be using a fake ID the next time she checked into a motel.
She tromped the length of the sheltered corridor and into the parking lot, past her traitorous car, to the highway that stretched from Searchlight to Las Vegas. It was a trucking route, so her chances of getting picked up as a hitchhiker were good. She began the walk towards the orange-ish haze of light pollution in the distance.
[Thread: Open to Whistler]
Rhiannon slammed the door and hauled her possessions onto her shoulder. A backpack and duffel: that was all she owned in the world, other than her beat-up, ‘new to her’ car… which wouldn’t start. Probably the battery. No telling when it had been replaced and such extreme temperatures were notoriously bad for them. It was an easy fix, but she wanted out of the motel now and she was prepared to leave the car behind – at last temporarily – to accomplish it because the seedy, perspiring manager of the Kay told her that an older woman asked about her. Sure, he’d be happy to tell Rhiannon the other details of the conversation, for a price.
Well, screw that and screw him. She’d be using a fake ID the next time she checked into a motel.
She tromped the length of the sheltered corridor and into the parking lot, past her traitorous car, to the highway that stretched from Searchlight to Las Vegas. It was a trucking route, so her chances of getting picked up as a hitchhiker were good. She began the walk towards the orange-ish haze of light pollution in the distance.
[Thread: Open to Whistler]