The doors smashed open. The nights air flooded into the doors of the hotel, making that slightly stale building air get washed away by the still forest sky. A figure tumbled in, almost tripping over his own legs, his black hair washed down over his eyes. He dragged over to the counter, a man standing at his workplace, having pulled the night shift.
"1 Room..." Jakole said, quietly. "Certainly, Sir." He said, lightly chucking a key in his direction. Flicking his wrist and catching it, Jakole wandered to the room. 13. How appropriate, bad omens. Jakole's favourate thing.
Jak's always one to test fate, and this was no exception.