The creak from the hallway grew into a shuffle, and Vincent tensed, his hand hovering over the door handle, ready for anything another thief, the girl back for more, or worse.
The door creaked open, revealing not a threat but an old man, stooped and wiry, clutching a broom like a makeshift staff. His gray hair stuck out in tufts, and his eyes, sharp despite his age, narrowed at them.
"Who are you folks?" he rasped, his voice a gravelly drawl as he leaned on the broom, eyeing Vincent and Marcus with suspicion.
Vincent exchanged a glance with Marcus, then spilled it all the rain-soaked ride, the quirky girl with her hospitality tray, the robbery that left them penniless.
Marcus nodded along, adding with a wry smile, "She even left us a condom as a parting gift!"
