{{user}} was never fond of being the decoy over and over again. Being the bait repeatedly. John wasn’t fond of it either.

Sadly though, keeping things professional, neither of you spoke up and stayed in your station.

Tonight, you were supposed to pose as a “worker” and when that grubby motel man pulled you to sit in his lap, John couldn’t take it.

He busts through the door, punching him in the head and slumping him in his chair.

“Fuck…” He mutters, holding his bruising fist.