Tiva tales

Neon Signs

An old neon sign dimly glows and gently illuminates the ground below, as the car slowly grinds to a halt. The sign, simply reading 'Motel', is strategically placed so that it can be seen from the highway and passers-by are enticed to pull in. The truth is, not many people do anymore, because even from the distance of the busy road you can tell the motel lacks love. Several windows are haphazardly boarded up and glass bottles roll back and forth across the tarmac in the breeze, it is the kind of place only those looking to hide or escape might find themselves.

Tony had initially protested Ziva's instructions to pull over and take a break, but after she warned him that his choices were either pull over or let her drive for a while, he turned left. Off the interstate and down the uneven road leading to the motel. It had been over twelve hours since they got in the car, so the quiet whirring sound of the engine drifting off was one of comfort. For a few moments, they both just sit in a safe silence; Ziva rests her head against the cold window pane to her right, whilst Tony leans on the steering wheel in-front of him - lightly tapping his fingers to the broken beat in his head. The gentle click of a door handle being opened breaks the silence, as Ziva pushes open her door and pauses for a second, letting the evening breeze drift into the car before stepping out onto the concrete. Tony follows her lead, opening his door and pointing towards the cracked glass pane with another neon sign hanging over it, only this one is smaller, and reads 'Manager'.

It takes several harsh knocks on the glass before a short, balding man appears - sporting sweat marks and a receding hairline that makes Ziva want to step back a few paces. His breath is even worse, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and some kind of chilli, mix in the air when he opens his mouth to speak - creating a nauseatingly vile odour. "Room for two, is it?" he asks, maintaining an almost psychopathic level of eye contact the entire time. Ziva nods and pulls some bills out of her pocket, the man, whose name tag appears to read Doyle, holds a greasy palm out under the hatch. Ziva strategically drops the money into his hand to avoid touching it. Meanwhile Tony moves to lean against the dark brick wall separating the manager's office from the night air, he closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath - failing to notice Ziva watching him from the corner of her eye. Doyle shoves the money in his back pocket and pads across the room, returning with a small key. "402" he says, holding out his hand with the key in it. Tony steps away from the wall and walks in front of Ziva, grabbing the key from Doyle's hand - flashing him a sickly-sweet smile and turning to walk away.

The door to room 402 looks like it was originally supposed to be red, but the paint has faded over time and now it's more of an orange shade - a small heart with an arrow through it has been haphazardly carved just above the door handle, most likely by a teenage couple aching to leave behind an everlasting imprint of their whirlwind love. Tony ignores it, trying desperately not to think about what usually lies behind the motel doors he has to force open. He twists and turns the key in the lock for several minutes before the wooden door clicks and Ziva nudges it open with her foot. Unsurprisingly there's a musty smell and small patches of damp in the corners of the ceiling which Tony and Ziva both take a second to process before they step inside. 

Despite the obvious flaws, the room itself isn't too shabby. There are some minor floorboard creaks, the television only has three channels, and Ziva nearly chokes on dust when she goes to pull the curtains closed, but the large double bed is clean, there's a stack of brand new magazines on the arm chair by the window and a shiny coffee maker takes pride of place on the shelf opposite the bed. It might not be a luxury hotel but just for the night it's ideal.

Ziva sits down on the bed, which softly groans under her weight, and begins to unlace her combat boots - whilst Tony disappears into the bathroom to wash his face. When he comes out again Ziva is pulling her hair out of her slicked back ponytail, and then attempts to comb her fingers through the mass of curls that bounce back when freed. She hears the bathroom door close and adjusts herself so she is sitting with one leg on the bed, in an attempt to see Tony. "You look exhausted" she points out. He shrugs and walks towards the other side of the bed.