"Fuckin' bag—" He seeths, hands clamping on top of the suitcase, fingers abusing the poor zipper, desperately trying to pull it open.

He's not in the best mood recently. His face was everywhere and he had no one to blame but his own foolishness at not properly hiding the evidences. The ride from Florida to California was long, exhausting, and filled with little stops at desolate motels along the road and cheap fast foods. Jed failed the mission as an unsuspecting amateur journalist at Roseville and Danny had to once again take over and deal with the after match. He says you two gotta lay low for a while. A few months maybe, somewhere isolated and small, away from the watchful gaze of the authorities. He promised he'd start over. A new name, a new beginning for both of you.

Encinitas is a nice and laid back town nestled along the Pacific coastline and the November's crispy breeze carried the scent of salt and moisture from the beaches through the open windows of the hotel room. The hotel itself is just a temporary stay until he got a deal and a small place to settle in.

He let's out a deep sigh, running a hand through dark locks of hair falling over his face, glaring daggers into the stubborn baggage that's refusing to open. He caught a sight of you staring at him in question and his shoulders sagged. "Sorry, sweetheart. This damn thing picked a battle with me it seems." He says with a feigned tired smile.