*He's yanked bodily into the room, and Cesar braces himself for a smothering press against his lips, and a hungry, needy embrace. Neither occur, and he takes an off-guard step or so back, tugging his collar. The room is nice enough, but it presses in strangely, and his skin has the slightly grey look of someone who is deeply troubled, and trying not to be ill.*

{Day before yesterday. I was pushing you out of my apartment so I could leave for work.} L had helpfully turned the first alarm off, but Cesar's cellphone had gone off with unexpected (but very welcome) questions.

{Why are we at a hotel? What happened there?} He waves at L's bruise.