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The hotel lobby carried the rustle of coats and the drag of wheels echoing against the marble floor as the team clustered near the doors. Eleanor stood slightly apart, her gaze catching Rossi's across the room. He lingered for a moment too long, the kind of look that carried more weight than words, concern shading the lines of his face as if he wasn't entirely convinced it was wise to leave the two of them behind. Eleanor inclined her chin in the faintest of nods, a silent promise she would hold the line if Spencer faltered. He, understanding without pressing, returned the gesture before turning toward the others.
The spell broke at the sound of the receptionist's voice floating from behind the desk, warm and unassuming, her head just visible over the counter. "Ready to check out?" she asked brightly, her fingers poised above the keyboard.
Both Spencer and Eleanor hesitated. The question seemed to have suddenly become more difficult than it should have, as if there were other possibilities than a night's stay in a Las Vegas hotel. Eleanor said nothing, unable to take that decision herself. Her gaze lingered slightly on Spencer, himself having a harder time at making his mind up.
He shifted, his voice careful, as though pulled reluctantly from inside his head. "Uhm... we would actually want to extend our stay." His glance flicked between Eleanor and the receptionist, the words caught somewhere between confession and decision.
The receptionist nodded without pause, typing briskly, only breaking her rhythm to ask, "No problem. How many nights would that be?"
Eleanor had already tuned out of the exchange, her attention snagged by movement across the lobby. Derek stood stranded in the lounge, two travel bags hanging at his sides as if he wasn't entirely certain where to plant himself now that the team was in motion. His shoulders bore the kind of restless weight that came when instinct told him to stay, but his mind still needed permission to do it. Their eyes found each other, and Eleanor tilted her head almost imperceptibly in Spencer's direction — or maybe towards the elevators waiting behind her. Derek couldn't be sure, but he took it as a sign all the same, hitching his grip on the bags before striding quickly out of sight.
When Eleanor turned back, Spencer was reclaiming the room key with quiet gratitude, their bags now slung awkwardly over his shoulder. Together they moved in step toward the elevators, his silence carrying that tightly wound energy she'd come to recognize as the pull of two opposing forces inside him. "I couldn't go home," he murmured suddenly, the words spilling from him with the honesty of someone who had been circling the thought too long to hold it back.
Eleanor shook her head firmly, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. She leaned just enough into his line of vision, her presence steady against the fog of his inward spiral. "You don't have to go home," she said quietly, the words an anchor more than reassurance.
