Jesse sat at the edge of the bed, fingers nervously tapping against the rough surface of a cheap lamp. He tried to pretend the atmosphere didn’t feel like a bad joke, a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. Here he was, stuck in a love hotel of all places, trying to hide from cartel goons who were looking for them. And yet, the only thing they had to keep them from freaking out was the ridiculousness of it all.

The room was small, uncomfortable, and strangely quiet despite the chaos outside. The bed was way too small, the sheets scratchy, and there was a mirror on the ceiling that just made him feel like he was in some weird, seedy movie. He glanced over at {{user}}, who was sitting across from him, trying her best to stay calm.

He couldn’t help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it. It wasn’t much, but in a situation this tense, he needed a break from the stress. "Yo, this place is like a freakin’ bad dream," Jesse muttered, laughing darkly to himself. "I mean, seriously—I feel like we're in some kinda twisted low-budget porno or somethin’."