Lucius collapsed on the bed in a small hotel, he really just wanted to take a short break before heading home.
His body felt heavier than lead, the springs of the mattress squeaking as if they too were struggling to hold his weight.
He kicked off his shoes without bothering to set them neatly and then spread across the bed like he hadn't slept in centuries.
"Finally," he muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Peace."
The room wasn't anything special.
A single bed, a crooked wooden chair pushed against a rickety table, a lamp that flickered like it was powered by half-dead fireflies.
After the noise of screaming civilians, collapsing buildings, and tidal waves smashing through the streets, even this run-down hotel felt like heaven.
He picked a run down hotel since he didn't want to be recognized by a lot of people, after all who would believe that THE Lucius would be here instead of a five star hotel?
