With that, Wes pockets his Fluid. If Molly intends to make a move, he wants to intercept her as quickly as possible. The nature of their relationship in Deerington may have been contentious thus far, but there's a reason she reached out to him. She texted him for this, rather than someone else. Maybe because she knows he can be brutal, but that kind of trust does more for him than he even realizes in the moment.
The stairwell is just up ahead, at the end of the hallway. Wes knows better than to take his eyes off of it, lest the entire floor plan of the hotel shift once again right under his feet. He takes off at a sprint, uncertain of what he'll find when he catches up to Molly, but ready to either protect or to avenge.
Molly isn't far behind him and when she runs across Wes, she immediately tucks herself against him, arm sliding behind him as she warily and pointedly stares at the large man following her. He's taller than Wes and lumbering and seems to leer back.
"Oh, there you are, hon," she says and pushes up on her toes to kiss Wes on the cheek, intending to play off like they're together. Anything to give this guy an idea that she's not an easy target. "I've been looking all over for you, gosh darn it. Come here," Molly adds, pulling him into a hug. Hopefully he'll see fit to play along even if she knows he can't hear what she's saying.
The relief Wes feels to lay eyes on Molly is replaced just as quickly with a sense of uncertainty when she reaches for him. He's surprised enough not to fight it, thankfully, but he turns his head to catch her lips and almost morphs the kiss into something less platonic in the process. Fortunately, he catches sight of the massive figure gazing at them. It's not difficult to imagine what Molly's playing at, though he can't say he's ever been used in such a way. Usually, he's the creep that others are trying to avoid.
Staring down the figure keeping himself in shadow, Wes winds an arm around Molly's waist and holds her protectively at his side. He can't exactly talk to her like this without the whole process being too distracting, so instead he gives her a little tug, urging her to walk along with him. Back to the bar, perhaps, or anywhere that will lead them on a clear path to a crowded area where they can determine if the figure intends to follow, or if he'll let them be now that there's two of them.
Molly settles into the farce as easily as one might settle into a comfortable old robe. She crooks herself into a space against Wes that looks to fit her exactly, her own eyes warily avoiding the stranger that now lingers in the shadows, no longer coming closer but also not immediately moving away. She's afraid to look — afraid anything but exactly what she's set her mind to will prompt a confrontation — and while she's glad to have a little backup (as strange as it sounds considering she'd put a hole in her savior) she doesn't want to put him at risk, especially if it's not necessary.
"Thank you," she sighs, mostly to herself, and in gripping Wes' arm, directs them farther down the stairwell in the hopes of stepping onto the below floor and leave this scary moment behind. She's ready to go. Whatever it takes to get away.
It's been much longer for him than it has for her since they last met each other in that sterile hospital room washed in light. Since he was bound up by handcuffs and had to rely on her good heart for the resources with which to communicate. She'd given them, then shared with him the fate that had rattled him to his core. Five years ago she'd shared that news -- six now, if he can count the time spent in Deerington. Time may heal all wounds, but something about her seems destined to remind Wes of that loss. Even though he knows Grady is somewhere in this hotel, probably prancing around in that ridiculous fur coat. It still manages to sting like a fresh wound to the flesh.
He keeps her close to him anyway, protective arm slung around her as he allows her to direct their path back down the stairwell. The sooner they're off it the better he knows he'll feel. Even the long, winding hallways of the main floor of the hotel provide more options if the figure decides to follow along. And if not, he's steering them right towards the bar for a stiff drink.
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Everything has been too perfect lately.
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Don't let your guard down.
The two messages are sent in quick succession, and it's a little bit before Wes returns to the longer messages he tends to type.
It's suspicious they haven't made a move on you yet, but maybe they're waiting for something you haven't given them. Means you're doing a good job.
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With that, Wes pockets his Fluid. If Molly intends to make a move, he wants to intercept her as quickly as possible. The nature of their relationship in Deerington may have been contentious thus far, but there's a reason she reached out to him. She texted him for this, rather than someone else. Maybe because she knows he can be brutal, but that kind of trust does more for him than he even realizes in the moment.
The stairwell is just up ahead, at the end of the hallway. Wes knows better than to take his eyes off of it, lest the entire floor plan of the hotel shift once again right under his feet. He takes off at a sprint, uncertain of what he'll find when he catches up to Molly, but ready to either protect or to avenge.
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"Oh, there you are, hon," she says and pushes up on her toes to kiss Wes on the cheek, intending to play off like they're together. Anything to give this guy an idea that she's not an easy target. "I've been looking all over for you, gosh darn it. Come here," Molly adds, pulling him into a hug. Hopefully he'll see fit to play along even if she knows he can't hear what she's saying.
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Staring down the figure keeping himself in shadow, Wes winds an arm around Molly's waist and holds her protectively at his side. He can't exactly talk to her like this without the whole process being too distracting, so instead he gives her a little tug, urging her to walk along with him. Back to the bar, perhaps, or anywhere that will lead them on a clear path to a crowded area where they can determine if the figure intends to follow, or if he'll let them be now that there's two of them.
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"Thank you," she sighs, mostly to herself, and in gripping Wes' arm, directs them farther down the stairwell in the hopes of stepping onto the below floor and leave this scary moment behind. She's ready to go. Whatever it takes to get away.
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He keeps her close to him anyway, protective arm slung around her as he allows her to direct their path back down the stairwell. The sooner they're off it the better he knows he'll feel. Even the long, winding hallways of the main floor of the hotel provide more options if the figure decides to follow along. And if not, he's steering them right towards the bar for a stiff drink.