Belmont Inn

5

03:08 pm

The scarlet veins lacing his parched stare pulsated synchronously to the inflaming thuds. Sully blinked in respite from the dryness prickling his eyes. Periodically, stray thumps of plummeting bodies and breakage of property harmonised with the systematic rumble of unregulated music. As the planks adorning the semi coved ceiling of their room creaked in protest to the overhead abuse and the centrally suspended elfin chandelier swung precariously, Boone's snores paid their resounding contribution to what was beginning to sound like a hell pit melody of a band of goats shrieking.

Rockstars. He thought to himself semi embittered, striving to not project the culmination of his frustrations onto his overhead neighbours. This is a Holiday Inn, he instated to himself. People come here to unwind. People having a good time aren't the odd offenders, overzealous retired detectives trying to work are.

Proclamation realised, Sully steered his aggravation to the snoring hound behind him. He sulked as he sifted through his notes atop the desk, hurling an angry paper weight at his slacking partner, who's snores heedlessly resounded unperturbed.

Lord knew why he was sieving through evidence he didn't believe they had in chase of a man he didn't reckon remained. He sighed absently as he turned a page. It wasn't too much to indulge his partner. Boone hadn't grasped the ascertained body as the culpable killer they'd been chasing five years ago. Perhaps the man did not match up to the myth, despite the sick fiend's professed broadcast.

The man, then identified as John Wilford, taped the killing of the conclusive target of his career - his own. Divulging intimate knowledge of his residency, the psychopath maintained smug composure as he subjected himself to his own gruesome fashion, simply attesting it was his time. Thereafter, the killings stopped, Boone didn't. The pointlessness of the pinnacle of an expedition that took his last partner had him chasing ghosts. Granted, he wasn't unfamiliar with the crucifix of chasing something intangible - not knowing when to stop.

That being said - probably akin to many a sad fucks at the Inn this time of the year - he hadn't a family to get back to, so he didn't mind expending his jolly season on Boone's tedious version of cosplay. If he was going to drink and deteriorate the season away, he might as well do it in an Inn quite lovely save for its coffee, in the company of his best friend.

The devil in mention groggily stirred, smacking his chafed lips like a toddler sampling puréed meals and shuffling uncoordinatedly to his makeshift workstation.

"How was your afternoon nap, you old fart?"

"I've had better," Boone earnestly informed, morosely glaring at the animated ceiling. "What's with the racket?"

"Remember the giants from the Elevator? They're right above us."

Boone petulantly scowled, then blinked at him. "How do you know?"

Sully perceptively compiled the sprawled sheets as Boone mounted the bench, as he would have were the area still occupied. "One of 'em told me when I asked for our floor."

His still disoriented companion mustered a reflective reproach. "Bit young for you."

Sully rolled his eyes. "Wasn't an invitation. You straights think idle chatter is flirting. No wonder you get slapped at bars."

The irksome cracking of his knuckles preceded a yawn as Boone peered at the arrayed documents. "Whatcha workin' on?" He launched his query mid yawn, the ill-mannered stretch deepening his already caricature-like gravelly timbre.

His nose scrunched of its own accord as Sully regarded him with a scowl. "I'm not discussing shit with you till you brush your teeth."

A frown marred his brows. Boone scuffed a warmed palm leaden with sleep marks across his jeans before cupping it across his curiously downturned lips. He exhaled. "T's not that bad." He mumbled. Still, he petulantly waded into the en-suite. Rushing water distantly ensued as Boone's voice resounded through the open door. "You revisiting the profile?" His far-flung query called out, muffled by what was likely a toothbrush stuffed in his mouth.