"No... no thanks Ayra... just a bed will be fine... that's all I need right now... a place to sleep..." Mortimers voice drifted off listlessly. He didn't seem to have much energy left. He didn't know where it had gone but he was suddenly feeling even less active then before. He would carry Ayras things and follow her back to the hotel... but his desire to do... anything really... was completely shot. Without enough energy to even make a comment about Ayras active sex life or that she was actually a screamer, he moved out of the theater, still carrying the shoping bags as if he were the living dead... which for all intensive purposes he might as well have been.

"Ohohoho, sure, sure! I didn't think someone like you would live on the streets or a freeloader!" Ayra smiles, leading Mortimer out of the movies and to her house, where a man, rather good-looking, black hair was waiting patiently for her. He quickly ran to Ayra's side, happy she had arrived. He looked at Mortimer oddly, "We doin' a three?"He asks.

"Nope, this guys just staying at the other room," She smiles back, caressing the man easily.

As they enter the apartment hotel, Ayra was living in... surprisingly, a majestic room. One would expect Ayra would live in a dump or filthy place, but it was amazingly clean, high-class and rather fancy. All for free, too.

Nodding to Ayra his goodbye, Mortimer entered into one of the smaller side rooms of the suite barely glancing at the amenities and luxuries of the place, before lying down on the bed, unable to sleep but in a state of near-catatonia. A dark room and a depressed man staring at an empty tiled cieling....

(end here or continue?)