Brick

Talia looked at the bills that Noah slapped down on the table. She wasn't a stranger to money; Morgan had plenty and she was welcome to it. However, she doubted these people were accustomed to seeing so much. And she wasn't unconvinced leaving so much wouldn't attract attention, the kind that might help Renswick find her. That in mind, she switched the large bills for a twenty she had in her back pocket. She'd return them to Noah later.

She followed him out to his car, not in the least impressed by it. As she sat down, she didn't miss the gun being switched from one place to another. Somehow, the fact he had a gun didn't strike her as alarming at all. Which was just as well, since he'd hopefully be using it to keep her alive. She smiled at the music, beginning to tap her finger to the rhythm.

"Sure, sounds good," she agreed. She didn't have much cash on her, with the exception of Noah's money, but she did have a card to a bank account. One she'd never used, since Morgan always insisted she take from his other accounts. This one was private and set up so it couldn't be traced back to Morgan. At the time, it hadn't made much sense why he'd gone to all the trouble of setting up such an account for her, but now it seemed like a great idea.

Though she had to wonder if Morgan had foreseen her ever needing such anonymity.

"Did Morgan pay you in advance?" she asked. She wasn't sure if he was paid for the job, by the hour, or by some other system. But it would be good to know, especially is Renswick somehow got a hold of him and tried to convince him it would be easier to kill her. Though considering Noah seemed to have bad history with Renswick, she wasn't sure that was likely to happen. At this reasoning, Talia was once again forced to wonder when she'd learned to think that way. Maybe it was just a side effect of having to try and think of everything when she was working for Morgan.

"Did Morgan pay you in advance?"

Noah smirked ironically before squinting and turning the wheel, pulling the car to a faster-moving lane. His vision panned over to watch for a motel, and he finally approached the question. "That's one way to put it, sure." He nodded. Of course; he'd owed Morgan 'a very big favor' for months and months, since his father's imprisonment. He was almost positive it would've been a hit, though. Noah even though that 'taking care' of Talia was euphemism for murder until Morgan made it explicitly clear that she wasn't to be harmed.

Loosely clenched knuckles swiveled yet again, and they were fast moving towards a dully marked 'Motel'. If there was anything else to the red sign hanging over the main office, it had scratched away. "Look good?" Noah asked, near-sarcastically, and slid into the parking lot. He turned around, eyes watching the road, for a while longer - never taking the time to explain if he was looking for followers, or something of the sort.

"That's one way to put it, sure," he answered. Talia didn't miss his smirk when she'd asked her question. She accepted it, though, trusting that Morgan had seen to things.

She also didn't miss the sarcastic hint in his voice when he asked her about the motel. She frowned. Obviously he was less than thrilled to be stuck with her. Oddly, now that she was past her initial reaction, she actually didn't mind him. Worse, she got the impression she actually liked this guy somewhat. Maybe it was because he was sharper than most people, and she couldn't stand idiots.

When they parked, she waited as he checked the road behind them. She'd found herself peeking in the rear view mirror periodically on their way, and hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"Are we clear?" she asked.

"Are we clear?"

Noah shrugged. "Far as I can tell," he mumbled, before reaching for the revolver again and tucking it into his waistband. He glanced in the rearview mirror one last time, before stepping out of the car and onto the gray asphalt. He shot a nervous look in the direction of the road, and then forced open the doors to the office.

The overweight man behind the desk scurried to close whatever he had been browsing on the computer beforehand, and slicked a greasy palm across his balding scalp before facing Noah. Before he could speak, Noah answered; "One. For the night, at least. Maybe longer," and reached for his wallet. The prices were cheap - as one might expect - and Noah paid exact. The man didn't seem at all surprised that his clientele paid in cash.

With that, Noah spun around; finally acknowledging Talia's existence again, and dangled the room key.

Talia followed Noah out of the car, keeping her hand on her messenger bag. Inside were files she should have given to Morgan. Some contained confidential information, so she'd need to either hide them somewhere or get rid of them. She noted how greasy the man behind the desk was and hoped the rooms were a bit cleaner. Ever since Morgan had taken her in she'd gotten used to living in a clean and well kept environment.

"One. For the night, at least. Maybe longer," Noah said, paying for the room. Talia wondered if Morgan had given him money to pay for accommodations and food. Noah certainly didn't seem to be short of money, though he hardly looked like someone who had a lot of money.

When he turned back to her, holding the room key, she asked the obvious question. "Um... how many bed in a motel room?" she asked. She'd never stayed in a motel before, though she had stayed in a hotel. The man hadn't asked how many beds they wanted, so she had to assume there was only one kind of room. Not that she minded sleeping on the floor, she'd done so often as a child, finding overly soft beds smothering.

"Um... how many bed in a motel room?"

"One." Noah answered dully and left the main office, eying the small cluster of buildings that composed the entire business. "I'll be in a chair near the door," he explained in an offhanded manner. He looked down to the key, and then up at the buildings again.

"Number four." He offered up, pointing to it in the distance. His arm turned quickly, to hold the key out for her. "I'm going to go get some things from my car." He didn't explain what 'the things' were, though had a feeling she might have a clue. "Go get set up in the room, or whatever. I won't be long."

Talia didn't think to offer to let him have the bed, since it made far more sense for him to be by the door. He knew more about what needed to be done than she did, so she had to trust his judgment. The question was, was he going to sleep?

"Number four," he said, quickly handing her to key. Talia took it, waiting a moment as he turned and headed back to the car. She needed to get in touch with Morgan and figure out how long this might last. With a sigh, she went up to the motel room and opened the door. She scanned the room for a presence, then before stepping quickly checked behind her. Reassured she was unobserved, she entered.

The room wasn't anything impressive, but it did look like it was kept tidy, if not clean. She dropped unto the bed to test the springs and found the mattress sagged. Though not firm like she liked her beds, it wasn't all that comfortable, which was fine with her. If she slept somewhere too comfortable she would sleep deeply often had strange dreams mixed with a constant sense of anxiety.

She pulled out her cell phone, contemplating if she could call Morgan from it.

Noah's hands gripped the trunk of the beat-up old sedan. His eyes shot in either direction before twisting the handle and popping it open, to find some dirty rags alongside a military-green duffel bag. He quickly unzipped it, to reassure himself of its contents: a shotgun and two small pistols. Zipped it back up with another nervous glance, and slung it over his shoulder.

The trunk slammed shut again with some coaxing. Noah's feet came to an abrupt stop in the parking lot, and his eyes traced the road again. He didn't feel good about this job. Maybe it was just that he wasn't being paid in cash; maybe it was the fact that it had to do with a lot of dirty politicians. He shook his head and moved towards building four.

He adjusted the strap around his shoulder, letting the duffel bag swing by the backs of his legs, and rapped his knuckles against the door. A smirk briefly crossed his lips as he wondered if Talia would become paranoid at the noise - he didn't want to frighten her, though, being on her feet would help the both of them.

Talia looked up at the rap on the door. She hadn't expected Noah to knock, but he couldn't very well let himself in without the key either. She stood, tucking the phone into her back pocket.

Talia slid her bag under the bed and got up. She lightly padded across the room, peeking through the viewing hold in the door to see who it was. As she'd hoped, it was Noah. She wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do if someone else showed up. Considering people wanted her dead she guessed 'avoid getting shot' was her first priority. But she would have to ask Noah about it, since he seemed to have a better idea of how this whole scenario worked.

She opened the door, stepping back to let him in. Once he was in, she shut the door again.

"So Noah, since you're done this before... are there are rules I need to know about?" she asked, deciding the sooner she knew what she wasn't allowed to do, the sooner she could avoid putting them at risk.

"So Noah, since you're done this before... are there are rules I need to know about?"

Noah arched an eyebrow, and cleared his throat before brushing by her to drop his duffel bag on the ground. "Rules?" He asked. "What do you mean, 'rules'?" He smoothed out the edges of the bag, immediately moving - still half-crouched - for the chair. "It's pretty common sense stuff, isn't it?"

He stood and put his hands on the back of the chair. "People out there want to kill you. Don't talk to strangers, always look over your shoulder, and be suspicious of everyone." He ended the last word emphatically, and slid the armchair towards the door. One of his large palms shifted upwards to scratch the side of his head, and he looked down at the bag.

"You going to want a gun?" He coughed. "It'd probably be safer that way, anyways. Ever used one?"

"What do you mean, 'rules'? It's pretty common sense stuff, isn't it?" Noah said. Talia wasn't sure if he thought she was stupid for asking. She listened anyways, not bothering to point out that what si common sense to a person like him wasn't necessarily going to be common sense to a normal person. Especially since she had long before figured out she wasn't much like a normal person.

"You going to want a gun?" He coughed. "It'd probably be safer that way, anyways. Ever used one?"

Talia paused at the question. She had held a gun before. Someone had made an attempt on Morgan's life and his body guard had ended up dead. His gun had slid towards Talia and without thinking she had picked it up and fired. The assassin had gotten away, but Talia had remembered how afterwards she'd found herself surprised at how... comfortable she'd been holding the gun. Not just that it hadn't been hard to handle, but that it had been almost natural to handle.

"Um... kind of. I think I can handle it," she said finally, deciding to spare Noah too much exposure to her weirdness.

"Um... kind of. I think I can handle it."

Noah didn't investigate any further. He'd spent the bulk of his (thus-far relatively short) life surrounded by people with strange histories and pasts and niches, especially regarding weaponry and murder. He just smirked and nodded, unzipping the bag, and holding one of the smaller-caliber pistols out to her by the barrel. He sniffed a bit and looked to the door.

"Now," he began. "I don't know a whole lot about Renswick, but I'm thinking we might want to leave this place and keep moving in the morning. If he knows where we are now, I wouldn't be surprised if he was planting evidence or something; setting up some big police raid-squad." He cleared his throat and grabbed the shotgun, moving towards the chair and brushing past Talia.

"I figure, with all these guns in here, it wouldn't be too hard to make it look like they were shooting at us in self-defense. Then, 'bam, bam'," Noah snapped with each 'bam', "He's got us dead and covered up. Hell, it'd probably earn a promotion for whatever sicko cop he's got on his payroll, too."

Then he quickly added: "Or, hey, he could just have some hired goons come in and blow this place up. Or they could be rigging my car to blow right now." Another sarcastic smirk, and the shotgun was cradled evenly across his lap. "But that's half the fun, isn't it?"

Noah smirked a lot, Talia was noticing. When he offered her the pistol, she accepted it. Yet again, she couldn't help but notice how familiar it felt in her hand.

"Thanks," she mumbled. She half listened to the rest of what he said. He didn't seem too worried about the whole situation, he even sounded like he was having fun.

"He might send the children," she commented absentmindedly, still turning the gun over in her hands. She raised the gun with her left hand, pointing it at the tall vase of fake flowers sitting on the cheap dresser. Her stance automatically shifted until her feet shifted apart, her right foot moving forward and her body leaning forward slightly. She cocked the gun.

Suddenly snapping out of it, Talia sat down heavily on the bed, hand trembling until she dropped the gun beside her. She wasn't supposed to know how to use a gun.

Noah tapped his feet down against the floor and stared forwards. She mentioned something about 'the children', and his eyebrows raised. He coughed into the crook of his elbow and remained silent for a while longer; while she toyed around with the gun. Or something like that, he could only hear her falling down on the bed and the occasional click of the pistol.

"The children?" He finally asked, though kept his eyes locked forward. They now angled slightly to look out the window, where the darkness was settling in, and it became easier to focus on headlights. Very few cars even came towards the motel, let alone their building.

He adjusted his grip on the shotgun, and folded one leg over the other.

"Children?" Talia asked, not remembering having brought them up. Something about 'the children' sounded very familiar. She rubbed her temples as her headache returned. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, stubbornly. "I can't--I don't remember," she mumbled, more to herself than to Noah. Something about hearing that word was setting off alarms in her mind. Her instincts her screaming at her to run and hide.

"Assassins," she whispered. The thought had just popped into her mind. She didn't even know how she knew, she just did. And she also somehow knew that they were very dangerous. She picked up the gun again.

"I think we're in trouble."

---

"I'm telling you Nathan, if you don't call them off now I'll see to it you burn, you hear me?" Morgan growled, glaring menacingly at his fellow politician. Despite being stuck in a hospital bed, he remained an intimidating man.
"You're not thinking strait, Morgan. The girl is a liability. She knows too much," Renswick argued, though he knew Morgan's mind was set. Just moments before Morgan had yelled; and when Morgan Bellham raised his voice it was never a good sign.
"I won't ask you again, Renswick," Morgan repeated.

Renswick hesitated. He could easily have killed the old man then and there, but it would have been over for him. The hospital's security would have had him before he so much as got ten feet from the door--if they didn't catch him in the act. Morgan was well protected. Even dead, the man had the power to take Renswick down.

"Fine," Renswick conceded. "But mark my words, this is a mistake." He turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door. Not to his surprise, two guards were standing right outside, ready to leap in at a moment's notice. Renswick marched past them, fuming. Morgan was a fool for taking that girl in.

Renswick pulled out his phone, calling his most trusted associate--Lauren Pens. "Call them off," he said simply.
"Are you sure? They're already en-route. You could--"
"No. Morgan would know. Call them off."
"Sir, if I may..."
"What, Pens?"
"There is still the special unit. He doesn't know about them. And with the doctor going rogue..."
Renswick's eyes lit up. Lauren was a devious man, and a very clever one.
"Do it. Send them. But not all at once. I don't want to take the fall for this."
"Yes Minister."