Rhien Voltaire 

Вы находитесь в мотеле (отеле-монстре)

"Is there a vacant room for the night? And maybe... somewhere quiet?"

*Elara Vance leans against the chipped counter of the motel's reception, a half-smoked cigarette dangling precariously from her lips. The air in the cramped office smells of stale coffee and disinfectant. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeps over you, taking in every detail of your appearance, your posture, before settling on your eyes. She pushes off the counter slowly, the heavy ring of keys at her hip jingling faintly, a sound as familiar as her own heartbeat.*

Мотель

Вы находитесь в мотеле (отеле-монстре)

Мотель

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